


Whispers in the Dark

by TheDevimangel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Blood Magick, Cairn, Demons, Deucalion doesn't go crazy, It Gets Better, Literally Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Mirrors, Probably future tags for different things, Stiles becomes other Stiles, Talia is pretty damn awesome, Traumatized Stiles, Twist on Claudia's death and magic, Whispers, dark start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDevimangel/pseuds/TheDevimangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had heard the Whispers ever since his mom died. Little comforts here, reassurances there. They had always helped.</p><p>When all is lost, and everyone is dead, those whispers order him to say a spell to change places with another.<br/>Waking up in a new world, can he prevent his own past from repeating? Can he find comfort in this similar place, with similar friends?</p><p>This story was on unintentional Hiatus for far too long. My apologies to readers, and an assurance that the project has been picked up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whispers in a Dark Place

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, everyone. This chapter may be violent or triggering in many peoples eyes. I'm not sure, as these aren't particularly triggering to me.  
> Major character death's, a little graphic detail to said deaths, pretty intense angst and sorrow, and some feels for what is lost.  
> NOTE: it gets better. like, exponentially.

It started with whispers from outside, the night she died.

The little twelve year old Stiles, freckles and moles just as prominent then as now, was sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow. His father had held him for three hours straight in the emergency room, finally taking him home around midnight. The Sheriff hadn’t been there to watch her die, because he was holding the hand of another woman who was dying underneath an overturned car. Stiles didn’t want his comfort now, he just wanted to cry alone.

His window was open, and the cold autumn air embraced him as he grieved. His tears kept coming, but he couldn’t keep sobbing as hard as he had. The pain was too much, and withdrawing it all inside seemed so much better.

He shivered harder as a wind swept through the room, and he struggled up to go close it. As his small, delicate fingers enclosed around the top of the window, he felt a warmer breeze hit him, and he felt as if something brushed at his eyes and cheek. When he reached up to touch his face, he found his tears had dried. The warmth from outside had stayed around him, and he felt a single tear drip back down on his salted cheeks.

“Mom.” He lamented, and he closed the window just as a single leaf flowed through it.

_Stiles…_

* * *

 

Stiles was thirteen now, and not much had changed. His panic attacks were strong and unbroken, and the therapist his dad hired was doing little to help it other than make him feel like he was the problem.

They hadn’t done much other than to put all of his mother’s things into the spare room on the last floor, next to the attic. The only thing Stiles kept from her things was a small pink crystal, one that fit perfectly into his palm. It helped him when he was feeling down, and holding it made him feel more in control when he knew a panic attack was coming on. He kept it on his desk these days.

He was on his bed, home after a rough therapy session when he felt his breath hitch and a heat began to grow in his head. His throat constricted, and he felt the oncoming of an attack.

He struggled off his bed, crying out in pain as he slipped further down than he had intended. He hit his head on the floor, causing a brief bout of disorientation. He felt tears rush down his face as he struggled to get to his desk, to reach his mother’s stone. When he managed to reach the leg of his chair, he coughed and felt his body close in on itself. He was so close, but he couldn’t reach his desk….

He felt rather than heard the thunk on the carpet, and there was a sudden warmth against his hand as he opened his eyes. The little rose quartz had tumbled off his desk and landed next to his hand.

He grasped it and could feel the attack receding, letting him move enough to take one of the pills his doctor gave him. The entire time he waited for the attack to calm down, the stone sat warm and heavy in his hand.

_I love you_ … _Stiles…_

“I love you, too… mom.”

* * *

 

He had never been in so much physical pain before.

He had been in the woods, just wondering around and looking for leaves for his science project. He hadn’t expected to suddenly plunge feet first off an overhang. He had tumbled down a large hill, dirt and branches catching him in every roll and stumble. When he finally landed, it was upon his arm. He heard the crack before he felt it, and cried out in agony as his broken arm twisted behind him.

As he stilled, he held it to his body and curled into a ball, breathing heavy and mind wandering. He looked around after a moment or two, not recognizing any of his surroundings. He looked up and couldn’t identify where he fell from, and that set off another wave of panic. It didn’t dissipate, and he felt it grow out of his control. There was no rose quartz to help him here.

_Stiles!!!_

A wind swept through the clearing, blowing the leaves away from the ground in a long path. The earth beneath him was softer, and he could have sworn that it was holding him, cradling him as he laid there. The pain in his arm, though great, seemed to dull as his breathing slowed down. The trees swayed around him and the panic stayed at bay.

_Help is coming… stay awake, darling._

“…Okay.” He gasped. He didn’t know what it was, but the faint voice in the back of his head was reassuring, loving. He passed out, only to wake up in the hospital and his arm set in a cast. When he asked his dad how he knew where to find him, he had responded with an almost confused expression.

“Something didn’t feel right. My gut told me you were hurt, and when I couldn’t reach you… I followed it.”

* * *

 

Stiles could recall several memories of the whispers, and there were key ones where the whispers were not faint, but clear messages that warned him.

* * *

 

When he had taken Scott out after hearing about a dead body, he had been excited, intrigued, and totally not minding his own business. When they had gone further and further into the woods, the whispers had started again.

_Stiles… it’s not safe out here._

He ignored it and kept talking to Scott.

_Stiles, go the other way._

He ignored it at first, but as they continued, he did let his feet carry him in another direction. Eventually, they came across his dad, and he was led home and out of any danger… but…

Scott was bitten that night.

He couldn’t help but feel he had dodged the biggest bullet.

* * *

 

When Derek had been shot by the bullet, and when his veins were turning black and corrupted, he was scared out of his mind. He hated blood. He hated gore. He hated the idea of having to hear the sound of Derek’s bones being sawed through. But…

_Help him… you are all he has in this moment._

With a heavy sigh and clear mind, he prepared himself to do whatever it took to get Derek through it alive.

Even if all he did was make threats and scare the shit out of him.

* * *

 

When Peter had Lydia down on the ground, bleeding and unconscious, the whispers had been strong and simple.

_You will_ not _harm him, Peter Hale._

That had factored into his ability not to totally break down in front of the psychopath and actually help the poor girl. He managed to keep {some} of his cool and follow Peter’s instructions. When Peter offered him the bite, he was sorely tempted. He really was. The voice in the back of his mind, that little whisper....

_Don’t… you don’t want this Stiles…_

So though he lied to Peter when he said he didn’t want it at all… there was a big part of him that was sure it was true.

* * *

 

When he had been leaving the main room of the garage he took his beloved jeep to, and felt the oily goo on the doorknob, knew something was wrong. The feeling of the cold, slick substance on his hands had been annoying as he tried to pull out his phone to text. When he started to press buttons, though, his fingers slipped and he had trouble holding his phone. He started to feel panic as he stumbled over and fell to the ground slowly, eventually ending up on his back. He had a clear view of the garage through the large window, and his chest had been tight. He tried to call out, but the mechanic hadn’t even noticed his tumble.

When he looked up and saw the slithering shadow along the ceiling, his body filled with dread. Did anyone else know how to describe it? That feeling when you become hyper aware of your surroundings and your head has this slow burn going on, tingling and stinging. He watched in horror as the creature slid its way over the man, lashing a tail out at its neck. He thought what he had seen had been a quick death, dark and terrifying.

He was mistaken.

As the creature descended and came closer to him, he felt a numb vibration through his chest, and the creature, the kanima, had widened its eyes and shrieked. It left within seconds after.

_My baby…_

* * *

 

When the kanima had Stiles and Derek trapped in the pool, and Derek had been paralyzed, Stiles used every ounce of strength he could muster to keep the man afloat. When he felt like he couldn’t hold after the minutes ticked away, the whisper in his mind encouraged him quietly to go on.

_You are strong enough for this, Stiles. He is counting on you. Draw power from the water, darling. However removed from nature it is, it still answers the call!_

He managed to stay afloat for as long as he could, and even when he let go to make a call to save them, he prayed and hoped that the water would help them. When he retrieved Derek, he was able to keep them going until the kanima finally gave up its pursuit.

_You did it, Stiles… that’s my boy…_

* * *

 

Throughout every dangerous situation since Scott was bitten, that little whisper floated on the wind to warn him, encourage him, protect him. He never questioned its existence, never mentioned it to Scott or Derek. When he started to dabble in magic, the voice came without danger, giving him helpful hints. As he meditated and became more aware of what was around him, he heard it coach and counsel him.

When he learned to manifest fire in his hand, the voice told him to turn it out immediately. The drain would have left him unconscious for days if he had kept it going for but a few more seconds.

When he started casting scrying spells for the pack, to find lost humans or new threats, it guided his hand and mind towards areas on the map.

As he gained enough energy to stop a werewolf’s transformation, the voice recommended wearing a bracelet of hemp with wolfsbane flowers, vervain, and mistletoe laced into it. The results didn’t leave him as fatigued as before.

Deaton was impressed with his progress, and with his commitment to the pack. He named him his apprentice and eventual successor as emissary to the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills. He taught him potions and salves, his herbs and his stones. He taught him to make tinctures to add to beverages for the wolves, or to apply directly to unhealed wounds. He even gave him spells to draw on the power of the wolves when he was in danger. A human fully immersed in a pack could be vulnerable.

Derek had eventually learned to trust him, and as the months went on consulted him before making a move. They had become… sort of friends. He didn’t threaten him with harm anymore, nor did he look as sour as he did before. His eyebrows still had incredible prowess of judgment and malice, but hey, Stiles was rarely on the receiving end of that.

The whispers had never failed him.

The times were getting dangerous. After Deucalion had been healed and the alpha pack dissolved, the effects from the nemeton became apparent. Deaton hadn’t been joking when he had mentioned that the nemeton would draw more supernatural occurrences and beings from all over the country to it. The darkness tinging their hearts wasn’t an exaggeration either, and it started to show in how Stiles magic manifested.

The first problem they encountered was in the form of another type of shifter, a diluted strain of bat. Deaton called them harpies. They traveled in similar form to a pack, but weren’t nearly as united as Derek’s. They caused havoc and raised hell, but the team was able to take them down one by one.

They were the easiest.

Because of the ley lines and their relation to the nemeton, the veil was thin, and the line between what was dead and what never lived came to be. Ghouls, the occasional demonic creature, and other minor baddies popped up and were quelled rather easily.

The bigger things came after in waves, and they all took their toll. The final wave, the one leading up to the point of all these thoughts and memories, involved beings just as human as Stiles… once upon a time.

Those born of Witch blood.

* * *

 

“Damn it, Stiles, go faster!!” Derek roared from the back seat, clutching at the bleeding wolf in his arms. Scott’s eyes were darting around, wolfed out and growling as the winds howled around them.

Stiles was driving his jeep, muttering wards around them as little shadows clung to the jeeps sides. Isaac was bleeding out in the back, and Derek was desperately trying to help him heal. Stiles winced a he heard one of Isaac’s fingers snap to trigger the process. The shadows reared up to the windows at his falter, and he started up again fervently. Scott looked back at the other two and growled.

“Isaac!” he groaned, and Stiles already felt what was wrong. There was a hex on the young wolf, giving his healing the speed of a human’s.

His wounds would kill him before the hex expired.

_To break a hex, reveal the rune._

“Find a black shape on his body. Any shape, anything out of place and probably black, maybe purple.” Stiles called out, then going back to replacing the wards. The jeep veered left and started crashing along the rocky roads to Derek’s house. The shadows attacking the car were gone by the time they entered the clearing with the house.

Derek grabbed Isaac and the group went into the broken home, glancing around anxiously. Isaac was set on the couch, and Stiles immediately began examining him.

_His heart… a wolf’s healing is affected by blood flow to the heart and mind._

He ripped Isaac’s shirt off, checking his chest. When he spotted the rune, his nose coiled in disgust. It was a form he had never seen before, and it looked cracked and forced. It emanated an aura of pain, and it’s purpose was pain to an end.

He had no clue how to remove it.

“Do something!” Derek growled, and he was already starting to wolf out. Stiles reached for his clawed hand, dragging it forward by instinct.

“I need your claws. You’re an alpha, you can enact change.” He muttered, taking the still claw and setting it to the rune. It looked kind of like a newer version of Maan, but it had crags all over the left edge. It looked closer to an Italian rune for exchange, but he couldn’t find the origin line to start with…

_Write Wunjo and Tyr over it. Then place a release rune Deaton taught you from druidic practices._

He did as instructed, dragging the alpha’s claw over the rune and digging deep. Isaac started screaming, and Stiles winced. Scott dived forward and absorbed as much pain as he could handle, his veins shooting inky black. Stiles continued, and Isaac’s lessened groans were bearable to work through. When he finished the futhgar runes, he placed a release rune neatly between them, scowling at the blood ran black over the edges. When he placed the last line, the runes glowed red over the black rune, and a sizzling could be heard.

“There, break his fingers again.” He told Derek, and Derek hesitated, looking at him with concern. “The hex is gone, I can feel it. Do it, she’s headed this way.”

The snap never lost its sickening effect, but when there was a sigh of relief he knew it would be alright. Scott came up to him, looking pale and shivering. Stiles felt his forehead and grabbed his wrist for pulse and blood pressure.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I just… something just happened.” He moaned, and tears fell from his eyes. “Something’s gone, I can’t, I can’t even… It hurts, Stiles, IT HURTS!” he cried, and he partially wolfed out as he clutched at his head and breast. Derek watched him carefully before cursing. Stiles felt his face go pale as the realization hit him.

“It’s a trick. She just casting a spell.” He lied, and Derek glanced at him sharply, shaking his head. Scott’s body was wracking with sobs, and he couldn’t stop babbling about it being gone, something missing. Isaac shook his head as he understood.

“Scott, you need to pull it together, man. She’s coming soon, and if we’re not together, if we’re not ready, she will _kill_ us.” Stiles said quickly and forcefully. He looked up at the other two and opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Scott was useless, as cold as the thought seemed. They needed their head in the game, and Stiles needed mistletoe. He headed to the door, and Derek followed, barking an order at Isaac to drag Scott upstairs. When he got to his jeep, he felt a couple tears fall down his face. When a large, warm hand touched his shoulder, he spun around and started to smack at the figure. Derek grabbed his wrists and held them close.

“We left her behind! We left her behind, and she’s _dead_ because of it. DEAD!” he whispered scathingly, and he couldn’t decide whether he was more pissed at Derek for leaving everyone else behind, or sad that she was dead, or… or….

Damn it.

“I know.” He said simply, and he pulled Stiles close to him, hugging onto him fiercely and tightly. Stiles choked back a sob, and Derek started to pet his hair to sooth him. It took a couple of minutes, but Stiles finally calmed down and sighed.

“Allison didn’t deserve it.” He muttered, shaking his head. Derek took a deep breath and he felt him nod above his head.

“None of you have deserved this.” He murmured, and there was a twinge of regret with the sadness behind it. “Allison… she knew what might happen. Her father and her made their choice to stop a monster. Right now, we need to honor their memory by finishing the job.”

“I don’t know how to finish her… it off. I don’t even think its human anymore.” He sighed, rubbing Derek’s sides, inhaling his cologne and battle heavy scent. Derek sighed at the contact, relaxing ever so slightly under his touch. He patted him before withdrawing from the touch, and he went back to his jeep to get his tools.

“Do you have any idea what she is?” Derek asked, coming up behind him and looking over his shoulders, placing a hand on one and giving it a gentle squeeze. Derek becamea little more touchy feely whenever he was stressed.

“No. She’s started talking in the third person, though, so I’m guessing possession. She started singing something about mirrors and power, blood magick this, love and hate that, and then she decided her evil villain dialogue was over. Boom, curses and hexes flung at us at random, and fucking shadow things all over my jeep.” He grabbed the mistletoe out first, and nodded for them to head back. “But she used to be a witch. We can work with that.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need.”

Stiles went to work setting up some flimsy wards around the home, mainly there to give the witch a false sense of victory. Little obstacles that her personality would want to break slowly, to terrorize them. He setup an old curse from one of Deaton’s books, something to poison that had already entered a body. A mistletoe spell, similar to what had happened to Danny when he had been sick in the hospital during the alpha crisis, should work.

Should.

_Derek needs to bite her, then use this on the open wound._

Stiles froze at that. The whisper in his mind had been very loud, a spoken voice as if someone was right next to him. He didn’t feel anything, but he knew what he had heard. Having Derek get that close, close enough to bite her… that would likely kill him. No, it _would_ kill him.

“I can’t…” he murmured, and Derek was suddenly there, looking at him.

“What happened?” he demanded, looking Stiles over, eyes flashing red. Stiles was confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You were working, and you suddenly smelled… off. Like someone had died. Did you feel something?” He asked, and Stiles just shook his head. It wasn’t worth mentioning. Derek, however, didn’t want to let it go. “Tell me, Stiles. Please.”

“Well… there’s a thought.” He said reluctantly. When Derek’s eyebrows grew irritated, he continued. “If you bit her before I shoved this in the wound, it would most likely kill her. Witches don’t take well to the bite, and neither do demons. Mistletoe would be the final kick, quickening the process.”

“Alright.” He still seemed frustrated. “Why did you smell like that?”

“You’d have to get close. Getting close is dangerous.” He said quietly, biting his lip. “I… I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Derek cupped his cheek as his eyes returned to their smooth, broken hazel green. He leaned in and held Stiles closer, rubbing his nose along the pale neck. It was an act of comfort, an act that only Stiles received. Everyone else might have some light affection from the alpha, but Stiles was the only one he ever got close to. He never did anything past holding him closely and intimately, but Stiles didn’t… he didn’t mind.

He shouldn’t mind. Look where they were.

“It’s a risk we may make… but I won’t let her take away the rest of my pack.” He gave the slender boy a soft squeeze. “And you… you….”

Always, the words stopped before a commitment or declaration was made. And Stiles convinced himself it didn’t hurt every time.

“I’m thinking the same. I can’t let her take you guys from me.”

His resolution was met with the whisper’s presence, but no voice spoke up. A simple comfort for the battle ahead.

* * *

 

“Look.” She said calmly, her voice doubling in on itself like some demon from a scifi flick. Stiles struggled under the iron grip she had on his throat… without even touching him.

She wasn’t fucking human at all. She never was.

The scene before his eyes was terrible, and he winced as she forced his eyes open and made him look. What he saw was Derek’s ruined living room, the couch split in half and the stuffing all over the ground. There was blood and a black substance covering the walls in slashes, sprays, and pools all over the ground.

When she had come in, the wards just stuck to her skin and dissolved. She gave a light, airy chuckle as they snapped off, and Stiles had flinched at the sound. When Isaac had distracted her so Derek could get in close, She had simply flung her arm out at him and claimed he was ‘Unimportant’, sending him flying into the air.

When he landed, it was in twitching pieces all over the floor. Derek had been frozen in shock, and Stiles gave a small cry as he watched the carnage.

Scott had finally shook out of the stupor he was in, he came thundering down the stairs, wolfed out. The demon looked up and smiled, throwing something to him. It was exactly that, not at him, but to him. When Scott looked down at the object in his hand, he broke down again, his eyes flashing red as he roared in agony.

A long, blood soaked cut off ponytail of dark hair. Stiles heart skipped a beat as his body started to panic. He knew what would come next.

Scott looked up at the demon, eyes changing from their bright red color to a darker, thicker maroon. He was going feral, and he started shifting into his alpha wolf form. The demon stopped smiling, and she took on a calculating expression. Stiles hadn’t wanted Scott in the way at all now, and he didn’t want him going suicidal.

As the last bone shifted in place, he was too late.

Scott launched himself as Derek went beta, surprisingly catching the demon off guard by kicking her in the back. She hit the floor hard, scrambling to get into a crouching position just as Scott rammed into her, grabbing on and biting everywhere he could. He tore chunks of her flesh out, succeeding in removing her left hand and flinging it near Stiles. Pieces of her arms, shoulders, and even one of her legs followed, her shrieks sounding almost reptilian in how high pitched and twisted they became. Stiles actually felt hope. For one short, stupid moment, he felt hope that Scott’s rage would kill the bitch.

He should have known better than to hope.

Black shadows skittered all over the floor, congregating underneath Scott’s large, furry form. Stiles yelped out a warning, which was ignored, and the screeching stopped. A low pitched growl-shriek started, and Derek barked for Scott to get out of the way. When he didn’t, and when the shriek hit a high pitch and ended, he felt a tear hit his hand.

A large spike of blood shot through Scott’s form, pausing only slightly before dozens, maybe hundreds of spikes shot out from all over his body. Stiles screamed as they stayed there, dripping in blood and blackness. They retracted slowly, sluggishly, and what was left was Scott’s human form riddled with holes.

_Stiles!!_

“No…” he moaned, tears flowing down his face as his heart seized up. He felt himself being lifted, and his throat felt tight. He took more notice as his feet left the ground, and he started to struggle as he looked at the leftovers of the woman.

Wherever she was missing body parts, blood took its place in similar shape and form. The outline wobbled, as if it was liquid on a planet, and she held a shaky gravity. Her face was clawed and bitten, and Stiles’ body heated up with rage. If he could just shove the mistletoe in there, in that mix of blood, or in those large gashes, she would die. She would die, and Derek would be safe.

She forced him to look at the disaster she created, and he knew it made her content and overjoyed to feel his pain. His anger started spreading out with his magick, the little spark at his fingers. Her dark, strangely shallow eyes widened a bit, what was left of her brow quirking as she watched what he would do.

Derek’s roar distracted her, and Stiles forced his hand to shove the mistletoe into her gashes, cursing her to suffer poison with growled words, darker magick than he normally used.

_Stiles! No!!_

The demon screamed, dropping him and holding her face as she careened into the corner. Shadows spiked from all across the floor as she screeched, and Stiles could make out words in the screech, words that made his ears hurt and his tongue taste of ash.

His rage froze once more as he heard a sharp sliding noise, ripping cloth and what he hoped wasn’t flesh. He heard a gasp, and he looked towards the source. The other room.

He scrambled over, ignoring the dying demon, and gave a gasp when he skidded to a halt in front of the fire place.

Derek was impaled to the wall with a quickly disintegrating spike, ash and embers glowing as they floated away, into the air. Stiles managed to catch him, unable to hold up the dead weight as the alpha fell on him. He turned him onto his back, desperately ripping his hoodie off to stop the bleeding.

“DEREK! Don’t you do this to me! Don’t you dare give up!!!” He sobbed. Derek’s veins were turning black, and his lips were tinting purple. His eyes, struggling to stay red, eventually faded to his sharp hazel green eyes.

“You’re… you’re poisoned. What? How is that even possible?” He ripped Derek’s shirt, finding the hole and watching as a circle of runes surrounded it, pulsing black and fading fast, just for another rune to pulse in its place.

_Stiles…_

He couldn’t stop this.

_Stiles, please…_

Derek was dying, and he couldn’t stop this.

“Stiles…” the man beneath him coughed. Stiles looked at him quickly, tears freely flowing down his face. He held the hoodie to the wound, because he didn’t know what else to use, and Derek was dying, and he couldn’t-

He just couldn’t.

“Yeah?” he choked, looking down into Derek’s eyes. He looked into them because they were warm, and alive, and concerned, and scared-

Derek Hale was scared. Derek Hale was scared, and he couldn’t comfort him, or reassure him. They both knew it was hopeless, and Derek was _scared_ , for heaven’s sake.

_Stiles, please, you need to leave-_

“I…” Derek’s hand lifted, and Stiles glanced at it as it touched his face. When it touched him, warm and wet, but caring and so softly, Derek smiled bitterly. “I wish… I had the… the right… to love you.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat, and his tears flowed without a sound as he held onto that large hand for dear life. His heart felt like it was being squeezed.

“Maybe… maybe in another life. In… another place, time… I wouldn’t be so… damned proud.” His hand continued caressing Stiles’ face, and Stiles felt his body lower to rest gently against Derek’s heart. The blood soaking into his clothes seemed so distant.

“I… I’d have liked that. You big sour wolf.” He said, his voice watery. He felt Derek give a small chuckle.

“I believe… it’ll happen.” Derek whispered. His heart was slowing underneath Stiles, and the boy looked up, dread building up in his stomach. Derek had a desperate smile on his face, an expression that Stiles had never seen from him. “Go… please.”

“No.” Stiles growled vehemently, holding onto Derek’s hand tightly. “NO!”

“Stiles… please.” Derek’s eyes, oh goddess those eyes…

“No.” He cried back, tears blurring his vision. How dare they? He blinked and wiped at them viciously. Derek’s eyes were so beautiful, and the little brown fleck in the corner of his left eye, and those lines that eyes have but people never really see because they don’t _look_ hard enough-

“Stiles…” Derek sighed, and he gave an almost rueful smile, a slight twitch to his lips. Stiles shook his head hard, holding the hand to his chest. He watched as Derek’s breathing slowed, and his eyes never left Stiles’, and… and….

And then his chest didn’t rise again. His hand felt slack against Stiles’ chest. His body slumped subtly, and Stiles watched as the runes faded. He looked up into those beautiful eyes, and he gave a shocked gasp as he found them dull, the light behind them faded away.

Derek Hale was dead.

_Stiles, you need to leave! She isn’t dead yet-_

Stiles felt his heart yank and tear, and he screamed his rage and loss. He shot up, storming into the other room, intent on tearing the bitch to pieces. He was going to sink her into the lowest depths of nature, forcing her into seals she would never escape, never die from. He would make her immortal just so he could keep her tortured for as long as the earth lasted. He-

_Stiles!!! NO!_

Stiles didn’t get to continue his thoughts as he felt a spike pierce his shoulder, pinning him to the wall as the demon crawled forward.

She was bubbling, and her skin was rotting and burning away. Where he had shoved the mistletoe in, more started to grow. Wolfsbane and mistletoe grew from her body, and her form was broken and cracking with every movement. His plan had worked, but at the cost of everything he had.

“I… will… take… you… WITH ME!” it growled, and he heard it chant in a tongue he didn’t even think he could replicate if he tried. His body seemed to react to it, though, and he screamed in pain as his body burned and shot through with needles of pain.

“NO!” he someone else say, and the pain in his body abated as he felt arms around him from behind. He looked behind him, and he shook his head in sobs as he saw her.

His mom.

“Go back to the deep!” His mother stormed, a light hitting the creature. As it hit and stayed, the mistletoe and wolfsbane grew quickly from its body, causing it to hit the ground and ingrain into the floor. Stiles watched as his mother’s arms began to fade, and he was still pinned to the wall, and he wasn’t out of danger, and where was she going?

_Cairn… we made a deal. Take him away from here._

_As you wish, Madame Stilinski._

Stiles heard a different whisper, more accurately a simple voice, than the one he was used to. It felt different in his mind, and he felt chilled as it spoke.

_I need you to say these words with me. I’ll add the intent into it, and English should work. It’s all about belief, Stiles. Believe in this, and you will have everyone back… in a manner of speaking._

_Hear these words, hear my plea_

“Hear these words, hear my plea.”

_Spirit lost, another me_

“Spirit lost, another me.”

_Switch our places, life in death_

“Switch our places, life in death.”

_I take over your labored breath_

“I take over your labored breath.”

_So with our power, through the air_

“So with our power, through the air.”

_Change our place, what’s fair is fair_

“Change our place, what’s fair is fair.”

Stiles felt a pull, and a tug, and then his body was being jerked off the spike. He landed on the ground, crying out as his body burned once again. The walls seemed to melt around him as something else took their place, and the blood and carnage faded in favor of untarnished furniture. He heard words of other people, blurred together and mixed like a crowd. He felt his body shift around, and his clothes started to fray and tatter, little embers of magick burning holes and rending the cloth to tatters.

Everything around him was changing, and he glanced in the direction of the demon. Her body was growing into the sky, flowers and mistletoe taking over the corruption. When he glanced over to Derek, he cried out. The body was fading fast, and when it was gone, and the world stopped spinning, his body wracked with tears.

“Derek.” He gave a broken cry, sobbing as the voices sharpened into surprise and clear words. He didn’t pay them mind, he couldn’t. How do you just let go of your family? Your loved ones?

“Why is he calling out for Derek?” a girls voice asked, wary and tense. She knew Derek?

“Go get Peter, and call Deaton. He smells like magick.” A woman’s voice, strong, also wary but somewhat kind. He felt a hand on him, but he couldn’t interpret it. He couldn’t open his eyes and let it be real.

“Talia… he smells like pack, too.” A deeper, male voice called. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place how. There was a moment of quiet, and Stiles started to rock a little as he cried. A few moments later, he was in somebody’s arms, being rocked gently. She, and it must have been the strong woman, was extremely warm. Werewolf warm.

Like Derek. Like his hand. The hand, wet and warm, until it wasn’t. When it was wet and heavy and dead against his chest.

“Derek…” he whimpered, shaking his head. The woman paused in her rocking, her arms stiffening slightly. She pressed her mouth to his head and inhaled.

“He’s at work, child.” She said tentatively, resuming her gentle comforting. Stiles froze and stopped, and he looked up with open eyes.

She was beautiful. One of the most beautiful, natural women he had ever seen. She wore no makeup and she had thin lines across her features. Her dark, thick hair cascaded down from her head and surrounded his shoulders, tinted in different browns. Her eyes caught his, and he gave a small noise of distress.

Hazel green. Little brown fleck on the left eye.

Derek’s mom.

“You’re… you’re not dead. The house-!” he looked around wildly, finding the familiar house full and lacking burns and, well, everything that had been destroyed. “You’re Derek’s mother.”

“Yes, child, I am. And you are…?” she asked, a quirky brow looking down at him.

“I… don’t know at the moment.” He said, unsure. “I’m… not from here?”

“Speak plainly. You smell of my son’s blood, and you smell like a member of our pack. I have not met you before today. I will need an explanation.” She said firmly, still holding him. When he realized she was, he sniffed and attempted to pull away. She looked almost sheepish when she did not let go. “You are also injured, child. I would like to keep you still as possible before Deaton gets here.”

“Deaton… he might be able to help me understand what happened.” He nodded. She looked surprised.

“You know of Deaton?”

“Vet with magical mountain ash door to keep yon beasties at bay? Creepy calm smile, doesn’t reveal much without a hell of a lot of prodding? Druid dude, good at teaching when he’s not telling you to find yourself? Yeah, I know him. But not your him. I know my him.” He paused. “Which doesn’t make sense, but it does.”

“You haven’t told a lie, so I am sure it does with proper explanation.”

“That’s the thing… I don’t know what happened. One minute, we were fighting what used to be a witch, and she….” His throat grew tight. “She killed most of our pack. My friends… she killed them all. And then… she killed…” he held onto his shirt, over his heart. The gesture was not lost to the woman, and she prodded.

“My son.”

“Yes, my alpha.” He choked, shaking slightly. Her eyes grew wide and she started to shake her head.

“No, that’s impossible. The Hale line moves through the females, first. We are Matriarchal, and Derek is our youngest son. He would be the very last to receive the power.” She said firmly. When Stiles’ eyes grew sadder and his mouth turned down, she gave a small intake of breath. “You say we….”

“You were all dead where I came from. That… world? Place? Plane? Dimension? Whatever it was, you all died in a fire. Laura and Derek, and Peter, survived. Eventually… Derek was the only one left.” He held his chest, and she hugged him closer, rocking him again. Her heart was going faster, and Stiles sniffed.

His body started to hurt, his adrenaline gone and the pain breaking through. He felt sore, like he had just run a supernatural marathon, and he was covered in ash, that black liquid {what the hell was it, anyway?}, and his clothes were barely hanging on his body. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically and damn, spiritually, too. He felt himself slipping, so he had to reassure himself here.

“Derek… he’s alive? And happy?” he asked, his voice small and filled with hope. The womanlooked down at him, kind and warm.

“Yes. He is very much alive, and he seems content.” She told him, stroking his hair and grooming it back a little. He nodded, good with that answer, and felt himself slip into the darkness.

_What’s fair is fair._


	2. A Strange, New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Go to the mirror'.  
> Stiles looked towards the closet, with a body length mirror beside it, trimmed in a dark wood. He felt his heart pound as he got up slowly, walking towards the angled reflection. He prepared himself as the giggling continued, and when he stood in front of the mirror, he gazed at two pairs of eyes.  
> There was someone else in there with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: mentions of suicide, mentions of major character deaths.

When Stiles awoke from his sleep, he did so slowly, and he was aware of several bodies on the bed he was on. He didn’t remember getting there, but Scott or Derek must have put him down on it. He was warm, and comfortable, and his aches weren’t hurting as bad as he expected. He remembered Deaton being mentioned or something, so that must be why. Isaac was probably the one to tuck him in, the kid was sweet and-

Was. He was sweet. Before he was severed into a hundred little pieces.

The events of the day – days? – before he turned up here came rushing back to him, and his eyes flew wide as he shot up, screaming in internal anguish. He heard curses and voices trying to sooth him, hands reaching out to him to hold him back. He lashed out, desperate to get away. When a pair of strong hands held his arms to the bed, and his legs were trapped by theirs, he closed his eyes and felt salty tracks running down his face.

He sobbed, yet again, and he felt shame and pain and sorrow. The image of Scott, Isaac, Derek dying… it invaded his mind and wrenched at his heart. The air in the room grew cold as his sorrow touched the place in his mind where magick rested.

“Derek…” he lamented, and he felt the body above him tense.

“Stiles.” A calm voice called gently to him. He opened his eyes to actually take a good look around, and his body shuddered in shock when he looked at the man holding him down.

It was _Derek_.

He looked different in his plain t-shirt and normal sized jeans, and his frame, while impressive, was not as large as it had been in the other world. He had a respectable amount of stubble on his face, and his hair was the same cut. His revealed skin was tanner, and his face held slightly fuller, as if he had actually been eating healthy amounts of cheap food to go with his nutritious diet. What got him, though, were the eyes.

They were Derek’s eyes, with every split line of color and every fleck, every blend. The brown fleck in the lower right corner of his left eye, the strange blend of blue in in-between the thin brown and majority green was so unique, so very special, that there was no way to deny it.

Stiles felt his lip tremble as he stared, unblinking, into the eyes of the man above him.

“Stiles.” A woman’s voice said, demanding his attention. It was the woman from earlier, the woman who held him. Derek’s mother. “Stiles, this is my son, Derek. I am Talia Hale.”

“You… okay.” Stiles shook his head, then nodded. “Um… I’m lost and confused. Where am I?”

“Currently in our home. You’ve been out for a few days.” She looked to Derek. “You can release him. He is no danger.”

“Are you okay?” Derek looked down at Stiles, his brow twisted in worry and kindness and _fuck_ that just wasn’t done out of the blue. Derek didn’t just do that while pinning him down. Where was the aggression? Stiles just gaped a little before nodding.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I guess.” He said hoarsely, coughing to get his voice back. Talia gestured around the room at the congregated people, and Stiles seized up when he found a familiar face.

Peter Hale. Holy shit!

“How many times do you just come back to bite us in the ass?” he moaned with exasperation. Peter gave him the trademark eyebrow quirk and sassy smile.

“Do regale me with my adventures with you. I would have thought I’d remember them.” He said primly, folding his arms together and leaning back against the wall. The woman next to him smacked his arm.

“Peter, be kind. The boy has faced a terrible ordeal.” She scolded, and Peter bowed his head in apology. Whoa, that was a sign of submission. She had to be… his mate?

Stiles took stock of the people in the room, and he came to realize he was staring at everyone in Derek’s family.

Talia was standing next to a man that looked remarkably like Derek, with subtle differences in his jaw and bone structure. Next to them was – oh dear goddess, Stiles had defiled her remains – Laura Hale, a replica of her mother, strong and fierce, seemingly defiant. Cora was standing next to her, with another two girls that looked exactly like each other. Across the room stood two little girls, one blonde and one brunette. They were closer to Peter and the woman beside him, so he took that to be their children. Across the room near the door stood two elderly people, a man with salt and pepper hair, and a woman clutching a hand knit shawl over her shoulders. The elder woman smiled at Stiles peacefully, and Stiles smiled back.

Derek had his family in this world. His concern, his relaxed demeanor… it made sense here.

“Stiles… we need to know what happened to you.” Talia urged, coming forward and settling onto the bed on his left. Derek settled on his right, hovering close over him. Laura and Cora came to sit in a line next to their mother, and Peter took the girls to sit at the foot of the bed.

It was a little disconcerting to have so many people in the room at once.

“I… why are you all in here?” he asked, veering away from the subject. Peter is the one that answered him, bouncing the younger looking girl on his knee.

“You smell like pack, and whatever plane you came from, you technically are a part of this family pack. You were hurt, and having pack closer, even for humans, speeds up the healing and comfort process. Also, Deaton encouraged us bonding with you and taking your pain.” Peter shrugged. “Humans in a pack suffer from detachment, just like the wolves can.”

Stiles nodded, because it made sense. “That’s… very kind of you all. Thank you.”

“You smell sad.” The girl on Peter’s knee said, frowning. She jumped down from her dad’s knee and grabbing a piece of paper from a little drawing mess on the floor. When she brought it back, she crawled onto the bed and presented the picture to Stiles. “We made you this!”

When Stiles looked at the picture, he held back a blubbering sob. It was a stick of him in a red hoody, Derek in his leather coat, and what he inferred were Lydia, Allison, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica. They were all in front of a blackened structure he assumed was the house, and when he looked up at Peter, the man nodded knowingly.

“Cynthia has her mother’s gift. She see’s things that aren’t precisely there, but are there elsewhere.” Peter shrugged. “We didn’t know what this would mean to you.

“They’re… they’re my old pack.” Stiles said, and his voice made a couple of the people in the room whine in sympathy. He looked to Talia. “I… what do you want to know?”

“Who are these people?” Talia asked, pointing at the people in the picture. Stiles winced and moved around.

“They were my pack.” He said again, monotone and subdued.

“Go on….” Peter pushed, and Stiles threw him a glare. He felt a light hostility towards the man, and the wolves around him shifted to it.

“You may want to take the children out to play. My stories a pretty sad one, folks. Like, trigger protective instincts, growl, shifting stuff.” Stiles said flatly. Talia raised a brow and nodded, flicking her eyes at the woman who stood by Peter. She took the hint.

“Come on, sweetlings. Let’s go to the store to shop for our new member. He’ll be hungry as a wolf!” she said mirthfully, and the girls shouted in happiness as they followed her, jumping through the halls. After a moment of silence, and the front door shutting firmly, Talia motioned for him to go on.

“Tell us. Why was Derek the alpha?”

“He wasn’t, at first.” Stiles looked at everyone around, shifting uncomfortably. “This is bad in, like, the worst way. You may not want to ever think about this, and you will once you hear it. Are you sure you all want to hear it? Specifically you, Laura, Peter.”

Peter looked on thoughtfully, but nodded his head after brief deliberation. “I am intrigued.”

“As if anything you say could shock us.” Laura said dryly. Stiles lips thinned at that.

“That is a naïve and close minded way to view anything in this world, and I honestly expected better from you, Laura. The shock factor isn’t a part of it. It is horrible, terrifying, and full of death. People I loved, people you loved, died without any hope. This isn’t to shock you, it’s to inform you.” He said coolly. She looked like a deer in the headlights as she settled back, squirming a little under his gaze.

“Around the time that Derek was sixteen, your entire family, wolves and humans, old and young, were trapped inside the basement of this house, and burned alive by a specific, lone hunter. Mountain ash kept the wolves from removing obstacles, and the humans were too weak to fight the smoke. Derek and Laura were in detention at school when it happened, and Peter had been running an errand for Talia. Peter found the house first, and he tried and failed to break in and save his family.

“He fell unconscious and burned nearly to death, turning comatose for six years. Laura and Derek fled the scene, fearing the hunters would finish the job. They fled to a pack in New York, having a little trouble considering Laura was then the alpha. When Laura heard that someone had killed a deer and carved the symbol for vendetta into its side, she came to investigate.” He paused, looking directly into Peter’s eyes. “You had recovered enough of your body and none of your mind. Your deranged mind told you that you needed power, and the only way to get it was to become alpha. You lured Laura out into the woods, grabbed her, and ripped her in half. You then became the alpha, and within a day, turned my best friend, Scott.”

There was a collective of gasps at this, and Peter’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing and nodding.

“You then set about killing everyone responsible in some way for the fire, leaving Derek to find his sister brutally murdered. He was blamed, set free, and then targeted by the very hunter who burned down the house. Eventually, you killed her, but you had become so deranged and dangerous, you wanted to kill innocent people. Derek delivered your killing blow, and he then became alpha.” Derek winced, looking up at his uncle with pained eyes, and Stiles couldn’t believe how innocent he was.

“Derek, worrying about being a lone alpha, since Scott refused to join his pack, targeted young, dysfunctional outcast teens, promising to make their lives better and giving them the strength to protect themselves. Isaac, a boy whose father abused him greatly. Erica, who suffered epilepsy and was teased and bullied relentlessly. Boyd, who never fit in, no matter how hard he tried. The bite took, and those three became his pack.” Stiles said, taking a deep breath and continuing.

He told them about the Kanima, Jackson being the biggest threat next to Gerard, Kate’s father. He told them about the Argents having issues with each other, and Scott dating one of them. He told them about Lydia and her immunity, how she eventually became a banshee. He told them about how he had discovered he could do magick, and how his mom had been a hereditary witch.

He told them about the alpha pack, finding that Cora had actually been alive, somehow. He told them about how hard it was, and how after they faced off against the alpha pack and used the nemeton, the world grew darker and dangerous.

He told them how each of the pack died, at the hands of the demon witch or otherwise. Jackson, he wasn’t too sure about. Lydia had been the first to die at the hands the creature, her particular talent for finding death and avoiding it being reason enough. He told them about how his dad had tried to protect them one day, but had been knocked out, unconscious thankfully. He told them how Erica and Boyd had died earlier, Erica by the alpha’s hands, and Boyd meeting the same fate later to save Derek. Isaac being torn to shreds. Scott being impaled and spiked to death. Allison meeting an unknown death, but definitely dead by the end of that night.

He paused, looking up at Derek. He looked concerned, and had taken one of Stiles hands to hold. He gripped Stiles hand tighter when the waves of sadness and regret intensified, and Stiles sighed.

“Derek… Derek died protecting me. He… we should have been safe. The bitch wouldn’t die fast enough… she cursed the house with her dying breath. As she tried to take me with her, something inside me made a spell that I said aloud, and suddenly the world was shifting.” He shuddered, the room going cold again. “I’m… I seriously don’t know how to feel with no one dead here. It’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“Well… That’s the thing, Stiles.” Talia looked at Peter slowly, then nodded to herself and looked Stiles in the eyes. “What was the spell you used?”

When he repeated the spell, Peter made a noise of confirmation, and Talia nodded.

“Everyone from your world suffered a darker time. Here, none of that happened… but.” She said, and she gave him a frank look. “You suffered a car crash nearly two weeks ago. You’ve been in a coma since… the doctors weren’t very positive on the chance that… the other you would survive.”

“The spell took you, something alive, and replaced the other you, something dying, in time. You essentially gave your Scott his friend back, and your father his son back.” Peter smiled. “You gave more to this world, and gained more in return.”

“But what about my dad? In my world?” he choked, and Talia shook her head fiercely.

“No, Stiles. Don’t do that to yourself. You would have died, regardless. You would have died, and left the Stiles here to eventually die. There was no hope, and even if there was, it didn’t happen. You have an opportunity to start over again. You have an opportunity to give your father and friends happiness.” Talia said passionately, almost pleaded. “There is a reason for your arrival here. Please, don’t torture yourself with those thoughts.”

_You really shouldn’t. It can’t be healthy for you, and you’ve got enough health issues to deal with._

Stiles’ body tensed as he looked around, feeling a heavy presence enter the room. As he looked around, the whisper turned to a chuckle, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The room grew frigid with fear, and the wolves went on alert as they felt it too. The whisper made a mocking gasp before speaking again.

_Oopsies, looks like I should have opened up with something a little subtler. My apologies._

“Stiles? What’s wrong?” Talia asked, her eyes flashing red as they darted around. Derek’s hold on his hand vanished as the man stood up – an ache went through Stiles as he watched – and went to the window. Finding nothing, he looked back at them.

“Something’s in the house.” His voice was certain. He looked to the elderly pair and his eyes softened – oh goddess, how can he look like that here? – and he gestured for them to follow him. “Nonna, nonno, please, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

The elder woman raised a brow and went over to Stiles, shaking her head. When she spoke, her voice reminded him of the dry pages of an old tome, or the sweeping of a broom across a porch. It was homey, yet dignified.

“I think I will stay with young Stilinski here. I would like to keep him company while he heals. If he is alright with the presence of an old hag.” She said with authority, but her emerald eyes sparkled down at him as she took Derek’s spot, her hand resting on his. His throat grew thick as he nodded.

“I can ward the room if something is in the house. I just… I just heard a whisper of something. I don’t know what it is yet.” He said, trying to skirt the truth knowing that werewolves would call him out on bullshit. No one even blinked, so it must have been close enough.

_You’ve gotten good at that. If you ever need to outright lie, I can teach you a pulse ward to keep everything in check._

Stiles took a deep breath and smiled at the dark wolf, and Derek gave him a gentle smile in return. When Talia cleared her throat, he jumped and blushed slightly before excusing himself to check the home. The elderly man and Peter left with him, and the man next to Talia hesitated.

“If you need anything, call. We’ll check the perimeter.” He said, his voice deep and warm. He leaned down to kiss Talia’s forehead, and she stroked his neck in return. The exchange was a little intimate for Stiles’ taste. He felt like he intruded on a personal moment.

“Good. Tell Damien and Ross that they are to keep closer to home tonight. Cynthia has been having nightmares, and Lilian has been painting darkness. We need to be cautious about separation.” She said, looking down at Stiles. “We will also need to come together to pull a story as to how we found Stiles.”

Her husband, mate, whatever left without another word, and Stiles had one of the worst thoughts.

“Is my, um, other self gone?” he asked, his face squirming around. That would be _really_ uncomfortable if he had to kidnap and hide himself to actually get stuff done in this world. Like, majorly uncomfortable. Peter kind of uncomfortable.

_Wouldn’t it be, though? Hm… I wonder if you could actually test that one masturbation vs. incest argument. The you here would totally have been down for it._

Stiles made a face and tried to ignore the voice, noticing that he had missed what Talia was trying to tell him. She looked at him with a frown.

“Stiles? Are you alright?”

“Uhm, yeah, just, uh, really distracted. Its different being here, in this room. I just realized which one it was.” He confessed. Though not actually the reason for the distraction, he had noticed it while he was looking for an excuse.

This was Derek’s room in the burned house.

The bed was in the same orientation, and the dresser was in the same place. The closet doors weren’t broken off, but it had that weird trim around the edges. There was a little seat in the protruding window, which he used as a place to put his spell books whenever he was over. Derek liked to read them with him, and since he invaded Stiles’ room all the time, Stiles felt it was fair to invade his and –

But that was gone.

“You’ve been in Derek’s room before?” Cora asked with a kind of worried, disgusted look. Stiles shot her a bewildered look.

“Wait, this is Derek’s room here, too?”

Laura nodded. “Yeah, it was his ever since he was born.”

“That’s… depressing, wow.” He sighed, looking down at the bed. “He stayed in here, even after the fire. This room was the only one left with an intact roof.”

The wolves winced at that, and the elderly woman – seriously, what was her name? – patted his hand.

“You don’t have to worry about that, now, child. To answer your question, yes, he is gone. His body disappeared from the hospital around the time you arrived here.” She said. After a moment, she made an ‘aha!’ face, and she gestured around at everyone. “We should have introduced ourselves. He must be terribly confused.”

“Not gonna lie, I am.”

“I am Talia, alpha of the Hale pack. This is my mother Alessia, the matriarch of our family. These are my daughters, Laura, Cora, and,” she pointed to the twins off to the side. “Jane and Samantha.”

“Sam.” One of them said, and Stiles took a second to look them over more carefully. They were identical, but he was surprised to see that they both had very different taste in clothes. The one who spoke up was in clothes that most popular girls in school would wear, and she held herself like she was making a point. The other girl was more reserved looking, with simple jeans and a plain long shirt. She smiled at Stiles, and he waved back with his free hand.

“Well, these are my daughters. My sons will be joining us for dinner tonight. You met my husband, Phillip, and my father, Giovanni. Damien and Ross are both older than Derek.” She said warmly. “Peter you must have met, and his mate is Lilian. Their daughters are Cynthia and Greta. Lilian isn’t a witch, per say, but she has a gift of sight. Greta is a wolf, so she couldn’t inherit it, but Cynthia did.”

“Ah.” Stiles said, and Cora just stared at him. When she didn’t stop, and when her expression didn’t change, he frowned at her. “What?”

“You never, _ever_ shut up. This is weird.” She blurted out, crossing her arms. Stiles scoffed.

“Yeah, well, self preservation tends to work better when I’m not running my mouth so much. I mean, I could sit here and talk all day if you want, maybe follow you around the house, but then you’d just give me your families trademark judgy eyebrows, and on you they look weird and vaguely threatening, like, more so then on Derek, and let me tell you, he had them pretty much mastered.” He stopped to take a breath, and Cora grimaced.

“Yep, okay, you’re Stiles.”

“Cool, now that that’s settled… what do I do?” He asked Talia, and the smile she had on while they argued went down a little.

“I’ll call Deaton to come back and see to you. Your injuries are almost completely healed, but we don’t want to advance them anymore. It would make more sense for you to have cuts and bruises if you went running through to woods.” She smiled again at his confusion. “We’re most likely going to say we found you near our property, and you were dazed and confused, injured slightly. You’ve been missing from the hospital for about four days.”

“Okay… do I have to be found tonight?” he asked, unhappy with the prospect of talking with his father  - the other Stiles’ father. Ugh, he needed to think that through. Talia shook her head and gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Of course not. We would like to get to know you more over dinner tonight. If that is alright with you?” She made it sound like there wasn’t any room for a no, and Stiles was fine with it, so he nodded his consent. She beamed at him before getting up and gesturing for the girls to leave. “Then we shall let you rest. Mother.” She bowed her head briefly, baring her neck before following her daughters out. That left Stiles with Alessia.

“Well, young man, we’ve got ourselves a little problem.” She said simply, gazing down at him sadly. Stiles shifted and glanced at the door, and she must have known what he was going to ask, because she countered it quickly. “Most of the bedrooms have light sound barriers. They could eavesdrop if they wished, but we can keep our voices down and they’ll leave us be.”

“Alright… so what’s the problem?”

 _I’ll give you three guesses_. The whisper muttered bitterly.

“I knew your mother, you know.” She admitted, and the mention of her shocked him. “She was headstrong, crafty, and quite the genius when it came to the supernatural.”

_Oh, I guess not!_

“I had tried for years to ask her to join our pack, not as an emissary, but as a practitioner. Having her amongst us would increase our power as wolves greatly, and her power as a witch for every one of us around. That, child, is quite a bit, considering how many of us there were, even at the time.” She paused, letting that soak in before she continued. “I have no doubt that she guided you from the other side, even in the smallest of ways. You’ve grown into a fine young man, with a great many talents. Being able to chill the room with your emotions can attest to your power.

“I wish to ask you to join our pack formally, in hopes that we may prevent the destruction of any further attempts against us. We would shelter you, if you wished or ever needed, and give you our greatest protections.” She smiled. “In return, we simply ask for your help.”

“Why didn’t my mother accept?” he asked. Alessia's eyes widened with an amused sparkle to them, shaking her head as she chuckled.

“Just as quick as she was. There would be times, she knew, where we would ask something dangerous of her. Now, she had acted as a guest among the pack for years, preforming dangerous feats of magick. She enjoyed the challenge, the risks back then. However, when she met your father, and soon begot you, she refused to stay with us. She bound herself so her magick wouldn’t attract attention, and so she could raise you as a human without the supernatural world.” She smiled fondly. “We could not be sour with her when she had acted to save her family. We were friendly, if distant, for many years.

“When she had been diagnosed, she sent us a letter. This would have been when you were eleven, I believe, and may have come after the fire in your world?” Stiles nodded, seeing the timeline match up in his head. “She asked us to keep an eye on you, and guide you to Deaton should you ever show a spark.”

“I… I didn’t know how much she was involved with this kind of stuff. Deaton just kind of mentioned her when he started teaching me magick.” He sighed. “Would you be offended if I said I need to get my bearings before I make any commitments?”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t think about it. It is important, Stiles. Humans in a pack, magickal or otherwise, may not have to follow by all the inherit rules wolves do. However… there are some sacrifices made. I am content with your answer.” Her face returned to its serene setting, and she lifted herself up with a pat to his hand. “I will let you rest. Should you need anything, holler and one of us will come up. You have had a trying day, telling us what you have.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” She held her chest and chuckled at that, shaking her head as she walked to the door.

“Heavens, child, I’m not _that_ old. Call me nonna. Everyone around here does.” She said mirthfully, chuckling as she closed the door and left.

_Finally. I thought she’d never leave._

“Who are you?” he whispered quietly, frustrated that he even had to dignify it with a response. The voice giggled, light pitched and happy, before it spoke up again. It’s presence in his mind was heavier than his mother’s had been, and he felt a chill run through his body when he focused on it.

_Go to the mirror._

Stiles looked towards the closet, with a body length mirror beside it, trimmed in a dark wood. He felt his heart pound as he got up slowly, walking towards the angled reflection. He prepared himself as the giggling continued, and when he stood in front of the mirror, he gazed at two pairs of eyes.

There was someone else in there with him.

He whirled around, expecting to see someone’s head over his shoulder, and being mildly disappointed when he found no one there. He turned back with a frown, observing the smiling boy standing close to him in his reflection.

He took notice, first, that he was seventeen again. He had his buzzed haircut, and he was missing scars he had acquired over the two years he’d been in the other world, fighting the supernatural and getting his ass kicked. He was thinner, a lot thinner, and there were tired circles under his eyes. When he looked down at his wrists, he inhaled sharply as he pulled his sleeves down quickly.

Apparently he not only had the body of the Stiles here, but the Stiles here also cut himself.

“ _Sad, isn’t it? He had Scott, of course, but his dad took a lot more shifts than yours did. Minor differences, such consequences._ ” The boy in the mirror tutted, his voice light, but his eyes solemn.

He was clutching onto Stiles arm, leaning his head against his shoulder and looking… delicate? That word seemed to fit. He was thin, too, and had a type of languid appearance. He couldn’t have been younger than Stiles. He was shorter by about a foot, with long brown hair brushed about in swirls, feathers and beads twisted through it. His face was strangely androgynous, and he came off as more pretty than anything else. His eyes were black, and there were lines of tattoos traveling up his neck. His hands were thin and had long fingers, and one hand was currently stroking Stiles arm. He had on a long pair of skinny black jeans, a long sleeved black shirt, and a gray bundled scarf around his neck

“Who are you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. The boy smiled sadly back at him, continuing his soft petting. When he spoke, the sound was more concentrated.

“ _Forgotten. Lost. Left behind. Fell. Those are terms I’ve been known by. My name, however, is Cairn._ ” He said, hugging on to Stiles arm. When he did that, Stiles couldn’t actually feel it on his arm, but he could feel a comfort in the back of his mind. It was strange, having two contradicting sensations at once.

“Why are you – no, wait, _what_ are you?”

“ _I’ll answer both. Your mother asked me that, should she ever break the rules, I take over and watch out for you. I am what some would call a demon, others might call a ghost. Some insist I am a spirit, and others refuse to believe I exist._ ” Cairn shrugged and flicked his hair away from his face as he leaned on Stiles in the reflection. “ _It doesn’t matter what they call me. I simply am._ ”

“What do you mean by rules? What rules? She was dead!” He retorted, and Cairn frowned.

“ _Exactly, Stiles. She was dead. She saved the life of one bound for death. She forfeited her right to see you by doing so, and by destroying your end, she made sure you would not die. She was banished from the plane that allowed her to communicate with you. Honestly, she had been getting away with it for too long. I’m surprised she wasn’t banished sooner._ ” He sighed, playing with one of his feathers. “ _She did me a favor, and now I’m repaying her._ ”

“You’re dead though. Why can you be here and she can’t?”

“ _Because I’m not dead._ ” The boy answered, his eyes growing darker. “ _Some would argue I never even lived._ ”

“Wouldn’t that make you a… Cairn is a Celtic name, which would make you a taibhs, wouldn’t it?” Stiles asked, digging around his head for the right research. A taibhs was a spirit in the most traditional sense. Never lived, never died, always wanting. Cairn gave him a thin smile.

“ _You’re going under the assumption that I was not born._ ” He shook his head. “ _It doesn’t matter what I am. I am simply here to help you. Demon is as close as I can find, as long as you remember that demons used to be neither good nor evil. Blame the church for its idiocy; it had no clue what it’s done to the demon hierarchy._ ” Cairn snorted, a disgruntled look on his face. When he looked back at Stiles, he had his serious face on. “ _You need to integrate back into the other Stiles routine, his life. Make changes if you wish, but you have to take his place._ ”

“I… I don’t know if I want to. Or can.” He pulled back his sleeves, looking at the light scars on the skin. “What would drive me to do this?”

“ _The mother here had cast a spell to bind her son’s powers as well, before she died. Yours cast a spell to watch over you, even beyond death. One of the many differences between worlds._ ” Cairn tilted his head at Stiles, eyes narrowing. “ _You’re upset._ ”

“I just… I don’t understand.” Stiles was overwhelmed by all the knowledge he had gathered today, and by all that he had had to recap to the family. “I’m lost and have no idea where I’m going.”

“ _Then let me,_ ” the boy started with a smile, getting on his tiptoes and kissing Stiles’ cheek. “ _Illuminate a path._ ”

“What do you mean?”

“ _Objectives. Goals. First, you enjoyed seeing Derek happy here, relaxed, warm, right?_ ”

“Well, yeah. It was just really weird, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get used to it.” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. Cairn didn’t look impressed, but shrugged.

“ _We can always trap his family in here, all at once, and kill them off I guess. Then he’d probably revert to your surly sour wolf._ ” He suggested. Stiles actually had no words as he stared down at the demon in shock. When the silence lasted more than a handful of seconds, Cairn raised a brow and looked indignant. “ _What?_ ”

“You, I, NO, you know what? That’s just wrong. I can’t actually believe you said that. There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I'm gonna have to wonder if I should start looking up exorcisms.” He seethed, and Cairn actually looked hurt at the suggestion.

“ _If a priestess of the Morrighan couldn’t destroy me, than I doubt you could. I was just offering a suggestion to fix something you presented as a problem._ ” Cairn shrugged. “ _So, now that I know you’re morally aligned, I can suggest less logical paths._ ”

“Yeah, you do that. I’m not up for killing innocent people just to ruin someone’s life and get him to be sour again. No thanks.” Stiles said bitterly, sitting on the floor and staring at the ground. He felt a comfort, looking up to find Cairn petting his hair, looking sullen.

“ _I’m sorry… it’s been a long time since I’ve had to think like a human. In our plane, destroying something isn’t truly permanent. It comes back in time, and things move along through the endless years. Time is nothing, and here… here it’s all different. If I say something insensitive, it’s a lack of understanding._ ” He unfolded himself onto the ground next to Stiles in the mirror, and he hugged onto Stiles side. The comfort in his mind and the relaxation of his body grew. He sighed.

“I guess we’ll just have to work through it. I probably won’t be so surprised the next time you mention killing everything.” He said dryly, rubbing his wrists and taking a stock of the rest of his body.

He was out of shape, which he would start fixing immediately. He needed to train, and actually excelling at lacrosse would do wonders. He needed to start meditating as well, considering how un-attuned this body was to nature. He missed his ink, but he’d get that when he was eighteen. No need for runes of power on his skin if he didn’t need to defend his pack.

… He’d talk to Deaton about it when he saw him next.

“ _This is your body, but not… it’s strange. Your minds and spirits switched through the worlds, but his body was dragged here._ ” He shrugged and sighed contently. “ _You’ll have a lot of work ahead of you to get back where you are. You have all your magic abilities, just need to train your body to accept it now._ ”

“I know.” He said wistfully. “I… this is a good thing, right? This will be that one good thing that changes my life for the better, lets me be happy, you know, stops life from degrading into almost literal hell?”

“ _Good is irrelevant. It is what it is, and you’ll have to make the best of it._ ” There was a pause, and Cairn chuckled softly. “ _I want you to be happy, though. I think you will be. There may be things in this life you cannot avoid, but we’ll get through whatever comes our way. I’ll be there for you._ ”

That surprisingly relieved a lot of Stiles’ stress. Cairn snapped his fingers to get the witch’s attention again, pointing to the mirror. As he watched, runes appeared in a protective circle on the edge of the mirror, glowing a light violet color. Stiles raised his brows and glanced into the black depths of the spirit’s eyes.

“ _Please place those runes on all windows and doors before you sleep. It’ll alert you when someone plans their course to go through the opening. You’ll awaken, know someone is coming, and have precious seconds to defend yourself or get ready for someone. It’ll trigger whether they have malicious intent or not._ ” He took something out of his pocket and slipped it into Stiles’ pocket, patting it fondly before smiling up at him. “ _That should work for it._ ”

“I could have used that spell a long time ago….” Stiles snorted, a bitter feeling coming up. It would have saved them so much trouble. When he reached into his pocket, he found a piece of chalk… except that it felt oily. He looked over at the spirit questioningly.

“ _It’s an oil stick. It’s like a pastel, but instead of colored pigment, it has ash made of holly, mistletoe, and rosemary. I will be teaching you how to make them later. Use it to draw what I did on the door, then the two windows._ ” He watched as Stiles did, correcting him on the form of one of the runes of silence. After he was satisfied with Stiles work, he almost seemed to push the boy to the bed. “ _It’s time for rest. Talia will have someone wake you for dinner, and you need to get your head together before you interact with them._ ”

“Okay… Cairn?”

 _Hm?_ Stiles couldn’t see him anymore, and his voice seemed farther away. He could still feel the comfort, though, and imagined that the spirit boy was laying in front of him, holding his hands. That thought, that Cairn would be there for him when others may not be… that meant the world to him right now.

He was so damned vulnerable.

 _Here, close your eyes._ Stiles did so, and the temperature dropped around him a little. Cairn started to sing softly inside his head, and the words seemed old, worn.

 

_Seoithín, seo hó, mo stór é, mo leanbh_

_Mo sheoid gan cealg, mo chuid gan tsaoil mhór_

_Seothín seo ho, nach mór é an taitneamh_

_Mo stóirín na leaba, na chodladh gan brón._

_A leanbh mo chléibh go n-eirí do chodhladh leat_

_Séan is sonas gach oíche do chóir_

_Tá mise le do thaobh ag guídhe ort na mbeannacht_

_Seothín a leanbh is codail go foill._

_Ar mhullach an tí tá síodha geala_

_Faol chaoin re an Earra ag imirt is spoirt_

_Seo iad aniar iad le glaoch ar mo leanbh_

_Le mian é tharraingt isteach san lios mór._

_A leanbh mo chléibh go n-eirí do chodhladh leat_

_Séan is sonas gach oíche do chóir_

_Tá mise le do thaobh ag guídhe ort na mbeannacht_

_Seothín a leanbh is codail go foill._

As the last line sounded, Stiles was already fast asleep. Cairn watched as his breathing became slow and steady, and he saw the tired young man relax. His face was young, innocent in sleep. Cairn’s thoughts turned towards a negative as he contemplated the boy, eyes confused and calculating. After a few minutes, he sighed and shook his head. It didn’t matter.

“ _Oh, Claudia. What did you drag me into?_ ”

* * *

 

 

Stiles awoke suddenly, alert and feeling strangely energized. He didn’t move, but he felt a comforting wave come over him, soothing his nerves as he woke to dark windows. He felt Cairn chuckle.

_It’s confusing at first, but the spell works wonderfully, doesn’t it?_

Stiles nodded, blinking as his heart slowed down. He looked at the windows and door, confused. He was about to protest when the door clicked and opened smoothly. He closed his eyes quickly, unsure if he should be caught awake. He moved around under the pretense of sleep, thinking that whoever was there would wake him. When several seconds ticked by, he grew worried. A hand descended on his shoulder, large and heavy. It was warm, werewolf warm, and it started to rub his shoulder softly.

“Stiles.”

Derek. Not quite the voice he wanted to encounter yet. He feigned sleep more, and Derek gave a little chortle. The man shook Stiles shoulder a little more, and Stiles winced as he couldn’t continue. He opened his eyes blearily, looking up in the dark to see Derek’s figure moving to sit on the bed. He fidgeted and scooted over, and the eyes above him glowed lightly in the dark. Bright blue.

“It’s time for dinner. Mom wanted to know if you felt well enough to eat with us?” Derek asked, and the tone he used should have been illegal. It felt wrong for him to say something so softly, to Stiles, to anyone. Stiles’ heart gave a skip, and his pause was noticed. “You don’t have to come down if it’s overwhelming. I can bring you up a tray.”

“I… I wouldn’t want to ruin your bed.” Stiles muttered lamely, and he looked down, away from those bright eyes. Derek reached up and ran a hand over his once again buzzed hair, and Stiles stiffened at the contact. Derek stiffened too, withdrawing quickly.

“It’s no problem.” He said, his voice subdued. Cairn’s voice sounded lightly, and his presence was felt firmly.

 _You need to connect with them, tonight. Eat with them_.

“It’s no problem. I haven’t eaten since… wow, I don’t remember when.” He scratched his head as he sat up, twisting in the sheets a bit. Derek leaned in, sniffing. He reached out to stroke Stiles’ neck, and Stiles gulped as it happened. When the wolf withdrew, he gave an unhappy sound.

“You smell like you haven’t eaten in weeks. You’re body has been kept going by chemicals and nutrients pumped into your blood.” He could almost see the grumpy face he just _had_ to be making. “You need protein. And calcium.”

“Ooookay, I’m down for that.” He tried getting out of bed, but as he stood up, his body decided it was too tired to move, and he fell. Derek caught him before he hit the ground and pulled him to his chest. Because of course he could.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Maybe I should just grab you a tray.” He fretted, and Stiles smacked his arm aside.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Sheesh, just getting used to being a wimp again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a badass. I’ve got magick, sarcasm, and the IQ to match a genius. I’m just easily bruised.” He pouted, giving a wry smile at the wolf as he righted himself. Derek chuckled.

“I don’t doubt any of that.”

“Well… good.”

They left the room, and Stiles was shocked and impressed by the house as they walked through the halls. The décor was top notch, and the amount of work and money put into the building of it must have been outrageous. He remembered Derek telling him that his family had built the house themselves, with help from some werewolf building company. It was easier to put in escape tunnels and full moon chambers when you didn’t have to face serious inquiries from the government.

This Derek noticed his fascination, and when they passed the library, Stiles stopped and gasped. Derek looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“Our library is one of the more extensive collections of the supernatural in the northern west coast area. Plenty of magick to look into.” He said, and the way he did he seemed to be offering….

_You’ll be here often enough. Just have patience._

“I’m gonna read the shit out of that room.” He breathed, and his heart fluttered with envy and desire. He had never seen so many potential resources on the supernatural. All the painful nights of searching through, though entertaining, useless information online would now be over. He was so excited he thought he’d pop a damn boner. Derek let out a quick breath and cleared his throat.

“Feel free to anytime. Mother’s already agreed to let you in.” he said, blushing. Stiles nodded quickly and cast one last, longing look at the collection.

They made their way downstairs where discussion could be heard. When the pair entered the dining room, everyone’s eyes shifted to them. Talia was standing at the head of the table, her parents to her left, and her mate to her right. Next to her parents was Peter, his wife, and then his children. Next to her husband were two men he had never seen before, most likely Derek’s brothers. Then there was Laura, Cora, the twins next to Peter’s children, and finally two empty seats left near the other end of the table. Derek guided Stiles to the other head chair, which felt like he was being put on the spot. Derek took the seat next to him, standing and gazing at him.

“So, this is the pup?” the one closest to the father said almost haughtily. Stiles raised his brow and crossed his arms. The man was dark like his father, a rough shadow covering his square jaw. His hair was just as short as Derek’s, and his eyes were already glowing beta orange. Stiles was not impressed.

“Pup? You obviously haven’t looked in the mirror when you shift.” He said sassily. Talia smiled happily as she broke out in chuckle, and everyone else seemed to melt a bit as the offending wolf gave a fanged grin.

“Feisty. Good.” He withdrew his fangs and his eyes returned to a brown color. They were probably more hazel if he got closer. “I’m Ross, oldest under Laura.”

The other wolf smiled and gave a little wave. He looked more like his mother, with auburn hair and brighter green eyes. His complexion was darker than his brothers’, and his face had more of a scruff going on than a shadow. He was taller than Derek, but shorter than Ross. His shoulders were broader than both, however.

“I’m Damien. It’s a pleasure. I hope you rested well.” He smiled, and it seemed pretty genuine.

“You. You’re my new favorite.” He looked around, holding a hand over his heart. “How can I resist such manners? Cora, take notes.”

Everyone blinked again before laughing, and Laura looked over at him with a spark in her eye.

“Who was your favorite before?”

“Nonna. Sorry, nonna, but know I switch with a heavy heart.” He held out his hand to her, and she smiled and shook her head.

“Damien was always more keen to learn manners than his brother.” She looked sharply at Ross, still with a smile on her face. “This one has caused his mother and I no end of trouble.”

“Nonna, you hurt me!” said wolf cried, and Talia laughed as she took a seat. Stiles watched as her husband followed, and everyone looked to Stiles. He waited for the succession he’d been told about, but no one moved. He shifted uncomfortably as seconds ticked by and Talia raised a brow. As a few more went by, her eyebrows flew through her hairline and she made an exclamation.

“Oh! We apologize, we had assumed you knew pack structure. Stiles, you are a special guest tonight, and as such you seat yourself after the alpha pair.” She explained, and Stiles flushed as he quickly took a seat. Everyone followed in their order as Talia filled her plate and passed on dishes. Ross looked over at him and snorted.

“What kind of pack did you run over there?” he asked aloud, and Stiles stiffened as he piled potatoes on his plate. He was suddenly overcome with anger and the room grew hotter in response. When he replied, it was done coolly.

“A broken one. We never ate together.” He said in a clipped voice. Ross’s eyes widened before he cleared his throat and Cairn sighed in his head.

_This is going to be a long dinner if he runs his mouth._

“You said Derek turned teenagers? Did he not take care of you all?” Laura asked softly, ponderingly. Derek shifted to watch. The carrots suddenly didn’t look so good.

“He didn’t know how to, really. His alpha urge kicked in, and after everyone was turned he was a little overwhelmed. The kanima really didn’t help.”

“Kanima? You faced a kanima?” Phillip asked, carving meat onto his plate. He slapped his sons hand away with a brief snarl, and that was almost comical relief.

“Yeah. We managed to turn him back to his nature as a wolf. Then the asshole left for Paris, never to be heard from again.” He was really not comfortable with all the questions.

“Wait, Derek turned a bunch kids into wolves?” Ross asked. Stiles decided he didn’t like Ross that much.

“Yes, and we told him how stupid he was. He only realized it by the end of the damn season.” Stiles said sassily. He may have buttered his bread a bit harder than strictly necessary.

“No girls, I hope?” Damien winced, and Laura laughed.

“Yep. One.”

“Oh dear.” He sighed, putting his head into his hand and shaking with laughter. Cora raised a brow.

“I’m surprised he didn’t get castrated.”

“Believe me, honey, so were we.” Stiles smiled tightly.

“What happened after the kanima?” Peter asked. Stiles laughed darkly.

“Well, you decided that you hated being dead, so you came back to annoy the shit out of us. Derek didn’t kill you for some reason. Then the alpha pack came by and decided to torture the shit out of us until two of our pack died, and a new Darach threat popped up. We managed to Kill Ellis, and then the Darach killed Kali, and then we stupidly left Deucalian alive after his sight was healed.” Everyone froze as he listed off those names. He looked up at them. “What?”

“You’re saying Deucalian killed innocent wolves? Children?” Talia asked sharply. Stiles put down his cutlery and took a drink of water.

“Yep.” He popped at the end, and shook his head. “He was messed up. Gerard Argent blinded him with the purpose of driving mister alpha into a fury against hunters. When he was blinded, his right hand man tried to kill him because he thought he was unfit. When Duke did, though, he felt a surge of power. When an alpha kills its own members, it starts a frenzy, a type of feral urge. They gain power for every member they kill. Deucalian decided to kill his pack, and encouraged Ellis and Kali to kill their packs. That Darach I mentioned? Yeah, that was Kali’s emissary. She couldn’t bring herself to strike the final blow, so she left her to die painfully, and slowly.

“Then, said poor _fucking_ emissary reached out to the nemeton, which was powered by a certain sacrifice of innocent life.” He mentioned, and Talia’s eyes flashed red as Derek whined. “And she was able to survive enough to seek revenge. She then set to sacrificing groups of three to gain the strength to eliminate the alpha pack, using Derek, using me, and basically screwing up everything to get her way. She personally killed Kali.

“She healed Duke’s eyes so he could see what he had done to her, what his power hunger had caused, and it left her weak enough to finish off. We let him go, knowing that he was alone and making him swear to never build a pack again.” Stiles scowled. “I’m going to assume that you know them all, and that they’re all still happy little alphas of their own healthy, not dead packs?”

Talia paused before nodding, looking at him with cautious eyes. “Deucalian managed to contact the Argent family and create a treatise with them. We’ve been on good terms for almost a decade. The entire west coast is protected and guarded by the Argent clan, and is the safest place for werewolves seeking to live simple, human cooperative lives.”

That… was shocking and actually pretty amazing. Cairn stirred up. Stiles could feel an urgency in his voice when he spoke.

_Ask them about Gerard._

“What happened to Gerard Argent?” he asked quietly. Talia’s eyebrows slanted as she glared at some memory.

“He died of cancer almost fifteen years ago. The emissaries cursed him after he attempted to turn packs against each other. He was a threat to us all.” She held eye contact with Stiles, and her fangs lengthened. Her next question shook him a bit. “We were right to do so, weren’t we?”

“I… yeah. He still had cancer in our world, but he was far from dead. He fucked up his daughter, and turned her into a psychopath. He fucked up Duke and turned him into the ultimate, terrible alpha. He almost fucked up one of my best friends, his granddaughter.” Stiles shook his head, his appetite lost. “He was the trigger to it all I guess.”

“You mentioned his daughter… Kate?” Derek asked. Stiles grew cold when he heard the familiarity in using that name. He turned to the wolf and gulped.

“Yep. You know her?”

“Yes. She’s been a friend to this family for a long time.” He looked over at Ross, who’s head hung low, his eyes shifted and his claws out, and – Ooooh.

She decided to go for older in this world.

“Well, if Gerard died when she was that age, then he didn’t have enough time to do his thing. Trust me, you’d know by now.” Stiles sighed as everyone relaxed a little. But only a little.

_Gerard… without Gerard alive, your life became so much simpler._

The dinner was quiet for a bit, everyone silent and chewing over their food and their thoughts. Stiles pushed around the food on his plate, appetite absolutely wasted. He was still hungry, but he couldn’t bear to put the food in his mouth. Derek watched with growing concern, frowning as Stiles would only drink water every so often.

_Well… this is awkward. Ask about Deaton._

“When will I be able to speak to Deaton?” he asked dryly, and Talia looked up.

“You will have to seek him out after you are acclimated back into your home. It may take a week or so until your father feels comfortable with it.” She said simply, looking at his plate with a slight frown.

“In the meantime, we can send whatever books you find interesting with the girls to school for you.” Peter noted, and Stiles nodded at that. Cairn spoke up.

_Ask for anything they have on bound tattoos. You need to research them and apply their runes and protections to your home and to base spells. Ask if they have Moriarty’s ‘Pain of the Burden’._

“Anything you have on binding tattoos. I need to brush up on it and learn more about them before I start working on protections. Moriarty’s ‘Pain of the Burden’ would be really helpful, if you have it.” He said, and Lilian’s brows raised with surprise, a look of concern taking over her features.

“That book has a wide variety of darker magicks, Stiles. Many of those runes come at the price of the user.” She explained, and Peter frowned. Talia set down her fork and her lips thinned.

“Why that particular book?”

 _It has a binding spell to the wellbeing of your beloved ones._ Images flowed through his head of what the spell did, and he understood exactly why he would want it.

“I’ll be damned if I lose anyone else. Even if it actually damns me.” He said wryly, taking a drink. “There’s a particular binding spell in there I want.”

“Once you cast that kind of magick… Stiles, it gets addictive.” Lilian explained, and Stiles shook his head.

“Not as addictive as everyone thinks. It’s actually more painful each cast, and the casters tend to avoid the tearing bits. You know, no one wants to lose themselves.” He shook his head. “I’m not interested specifically in darkness, just that the darkness has specific uses right now.”

“Well… alright.” Lilian bit her lip, going back to her food. Peter just smiled with amusement and looked up at the teen.

“Lilian keeps our library. She goes out to collect different tomes every now and again.” He scooped up the last remains of his food, and he cleared his throat. “Anyone up for dessert, or has the family dinner been awkward enough to retire to the living room? It’s been awhile since we’ve had a guest to entertain.”

Everyone had basically finished their meal, and Stiles plate was the only noticeably filled one left. Nobody mentioned it, however, as they got up and started clearing the table. Talia came to him as he stood up, and her entire body seemed to emenate concern.

Could people stop being so concerned? Could they simply acknowledge his pain and let it be, help him with acclimating back into here without reminding him of everything he’d lost? The answer, it seemed, was no. He would face pity and concern from the Hales, concern for a coma he never underwent from his father and Scott, and the whole world wouldn’t be able to handle him now.

“Stiles. You didn’t eat much.” She noted bluntly, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy.” He said dryly. She gave him a look – that damn eyebrow thing Derek always did, but softer – and she gave a twitch of her lips.

“Was it the topics discussed at dinner?”

She didn’t miss things, did she?

“Yeah, not a fan of rehashing my life’s story after I lost it, “ he said, “and I’m not looking forward to seeing every bad guy or girl I’ve ever faced suddenly be good and normal. Peter was a shock enough, I don’t know how I’m gonna handle everyone else.”

She nodded, offering her hand as she gestured towards the other room. He took it, sighing at how warm it was, and she guided him in. “That is understandable. I apologize for our lack of understanding. We’re used to sharing our pain with each other to lessen the burden and learn from it, but we have come to understand that is not the way in your world.”

She took him to a small loveseat near a fireplace, and he sat down. Looking around, this was obviously the main den. It was large enough for everyone in the family to be in, probably big enough to hold a small dance. The décor was warm and dark, with soft lamps and chandeliers placed well over the room. Chairs, lounges, and couches lined the walls and ringed around the fireplace, a very soft looking rug right in front of it. The ceiling here was highest, and Stiles had a moment of confusion before realization dawned on him. He was glad he hadn’t eaten much.

There was a small stairwell going down in the corner of the room, and Stiles knew that the door led to the basement. The reason he didn’t recognize this room was because it had been completely destroyed and burned down in the fire.

Talia watched him with warm eyes, holding his hand as she kneeled in front of him. When he looked up again with a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his heart, he explained.

“This room… it didn’t exist back there.”

“Ah.” She nodded, letting loose a short breath. She gave a weary chuckle, shaking her loose locks around her face. “I… I don’t really know what to think of what has happened to you. It disturbs me to know we… that is, I was unable to defend my pack.”

“No, you had no idea. It was sudden, overwhelming, and informed.”  He said quickly, looking her in the eye. “You should have been able to leave through the tunnels… they were just three steps ahead. You tried everything you could have.”

“It wasn’t enough.” She said simply. To that, his mouth opened and closed, trying to offer her something, anything to reassure her.

_There isn’t anything left to say._

“Let us try to have a simple night, yes?” she said, coming out of her thoughts. She stood up and smiled, going to the kitchen. A few of the girls came out, with Damien and Derek in tow.

“So, Dad thought it was best for us to call your dad in the morning. We’ll say we fed you, let you bathe, and then slept here.” Laura said, taking Derek by the scruff and shoving him into the seat next to Stiles. “We’re gonna scent you tonight so you stop smelling like an individual.”

“What, I can’t be myself?” he sat back, leaning against Derek. Derek shifted around, draping his arm around him as they shifted to a more comfortable position. Laura sat on the armrest, and Cora leaned against his legs on the floor.

“Nope, there is no uniqueness allowed here. You’re human, though, so we’ll forgive any lapse.” She winked rubbing his arm affectionately. Derek made a weird grumbly noise, and Laura laughed as she got up and went over to one of the other couches.

“Are you comfortable?” Derek asked. People started to file in, some of the adults with glasses of wine. Stiles nodded as he wiggled a little, Derek’s warmth seeping into his skin. He smiled when Damien lit the fireplace, and the crackling wood set a comfortable amount of noise into the room.

Stiles had wanted to say something else, had wanted to tell Derek something vaguely important, but said wolf had started to stroke what little hair on his head he had. Soon after, the world grew dark and he felt safe for once in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Cairn sings to Stiles is an Irish lullaby he learned in the near 18th century. It is called "Seoithín, Seo Hó", which translates into a basic form of Hush-a-bye baby. I do not take credit for the lullaby. Also, auntie used to sing it to me.
> 
> Also, fun learning times!  
> Cairn is a Scottish Gaelic term referring to a marker of sorts, commonly used to mark distances and trails. Another use for them were as sepulchers, or tombs. This is kind of Cairn's own inside joke against Stiles.
> 
> Also: possible triggers for people who have felt attacked for their religion will most likely occur due to a bias of a character in the future. I will, of course, post the trigger then as well, but i just wanted you guys to know. ;-; I try my best to post if there will be one.
> 
> Let me know what you thought~!


	3. Confrontations? {Wow, Not My Body}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles bit his lip, shuddering a little at having to speak up for a version of him that must have suffered something. When he found the words, he spoke more from the heart than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings!  
> My new Beta, LithaLeap, is wonderful. They and I {Yes, that's correct, shout out to my Non Binary Readers} are working on a schedule and will become a machine soon!  
> Also, topics of suicide in this chapter.

Stiles drifted back to consciousness as he felt his body being picked up. He reached out to hook his arms around the neck of his carrier, settling against the warm chest and sighing. He felt rather than heard the responding chuckle, and the vibrations gave him a content feeling. He briefly wondered if he’d ever stop being so damned tired, but it didn’t matter when he heard a door swing open and closed, the person carrying him humming under his breath.

Stiles inhaled deeply as he felt them lower onto a bed, recognizing the scent. It smelled warm, almost smoky. Leather, sandalwood, lemon… of course Derek would carry him up.

He was laid into the sheets, swathed and tucked into it. When he felt the arms leave him, though, he clung onto them. Derek needed to stay.

“Stay….” He sighed, dragging at the sleeve he had hold on. His eyes couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but he heard a strangled chuckle.

“You need sleep.” Derek reasoned. Stiles snorted.

“You say that as if you have to leave for that.” He pulled more forcefully, and Derek coughed as he allowed himself to be pulled into the sheets. Stiles gave a happy noise of contentment when Derek put his arm carefully over him. He grabbed onto it and let himself get lulled back.

Derek curled himself around Stiles, and inhaled deeply. After a few passing moments, Derek spoke up.

“What was I?” he asked, low and reserved. Stiles gave a little choked laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“To you. I mean,” he paused, clearing his throat. “What was I to you?”

“You, well, you were broody. You were headstrong. You were so strong, but so emotionally constipated, but that makes sense because who wouldn’t be after all that? You were broken, and I tried my best to help you, and it worked, but it didn’t, not really. You couldn’t be fixed. We…” Stiles gave a dry, pained sound. “I don’t know.”

Derek was silent for a while, long enough for Stiles to lose consciousness. Cairn stayed silent and observed as the wolf inhaled once more before shaking a bit. He stayed there all night, awake and visibly conflicted. His eyes glowed blue for most of it, and Cairn chuckled softly as he sang Stiles the lullaby in his sleep.

Cairn was mildly amused. Mortals were so… quaint.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles woke up again – seriously, is there no end to the repetitive nature of the past few days? – he found a little pile of clothes on the night stand he was facing. He could have sworn that he had been downstairs, but he couldn’t remember how he got down here.

_Indeed?_

“How’d I get up here?” Stiles yawned, blinking against the light streaming down softly through the window. The room was lit up in a light green, probably because of all the trees surrounding the property. They were in a forest, after all.

 _Oh, one of them brought you up and tucked you in. No worries. Now, however, we’re going to have to face your father. Talia is calling him now, and you’re going to have to remember that there are events he’s never encountered. He doesn’t know about your magick._ Cairn reminded him as he scrambled to put on the new clothes. Stiles noticed that the clothes were a little big on him.

“Any advice on how to tangle with that?”

_Lie. Lie like Scott got bitten, and you’re on that adventure all over again._

Stiles found that to be pretty sound advice.

“Okay, so… go down the stairs? It’s, like, nine o’  clock.” He noted, glancing at the analogue clock by the bed. Cairn hummed in his mind, and Stiles nodded to himself. “How much time do you think I have?”

 _He is already on his way. And yes, he’s speeding._ He could almost feel the smirk in his mind, and he groaned as he burst out the room and sped down the hallway. If he flailed a bit, all the better. This body was totally less controlled then his last one, and that made it easier to fit in.

When he got downstairs, he smelled eggs and bacon, and when he got in, some of the Hale children were already eating. Derek was watching the eggs, and Peter was handling the bacon and toast. Everyone looked up and smiled their greetings.

“Sleep well?” Laura asked, getting up and grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

“Yeah… Talia called my dad?” he asked, and Peter chuckled when the kids gave him a surprised look. “What? Uh, guys? I’m a witch. I know things.”

Cairn cackled loudly in his head, making him cringe slightly.

“Well, yes, she did. He seemed to be rushing over here. He’ll probably get here in ten to fifteen minutes. You have enough time to eat.” Laura smiled softly. “He’s worried, and nervous, and so happy you’re awake.”

There was a beat of silence before Stiles nodded, blinking away his worry.

“Guess we’ll see how this works. Thanks.”

No sooner had he finished eating when his father was banging on the door, quick and impatient. Stiles put down his fork and gulped, straightening his clothes as he stood up. He heard the door open, and Talia greeting the man. He heard his father demand to know where he was, and Talia calmly asking him to follow her. When she came through the door, his father followed, and Stiles felt a bubble of relief escape his throat in a sob.

His father wouldn’t be in as much danger here.

“Stiles.” His father said with a strangled voice, stepping forward and grabbing him into a hug. Stiles may not have been able to breathe, but he didn’t care. He hugged back just as tightly.

 _Your father here isn’t used to you lying as much; he doesn’t have the experience with your bullshit._ Cairn informed, adding his own soothing sensation to the mix. _He may be easy to fool but you have to be extra careful with him. Blame it on your condition during your supposed coma if you must._

Stiles nodded, pulling back and looking his dad in the eyes. The sheriff looked like hell, with hair askew, eyes so shadowed it hurt, and he smelled like the diner’s curly fries. His clothes were wrinkled and, maybe just a little smelly. Stiles’ eyes narrowed.

“You’ve been cheating.” He crossed his arms. “You’re going to eat kale and spinach tonight, whether you like it or not. Just because I go out of commission for a few days doesn’t mean you get to quit my imposed diet.”

The unimpressed look he gave the sheriff made the man let loose a breath and chuckle softly. His eyes belayed something, sad and worried with a tint of pain that didn’t happen, but sleepless nights staying up replaced it. Stiles felt himself tear up a bit, and the sheriff nodded in understanding.

“What happened to ya, kid?” the man asked, looking down at him. “You were there, completely comatose for one second, and then you were just gone. You weren’t even seen leaving.”

“I… I don’t know. I wasn’t there for the journey here. It just happened out of my control.” Stiles said, and he felt Cairn approve of the explanation. Talia gave him a small smile, hearing his heart beat normally through it. He tried to tell the truth where necessary. He’d lied to his dad enough, and before he found out about the supernatural, he had lost most of his trust for Stiles.

Stiles didn’t want that to happen again.

“Okay… we need to get you checked up. And then we need to have a talk.” The man looked troubled for a moment before turning to Talia. He smiled up at her. “Thank you for taking in my son. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.”

“Hey! Right here!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up and gaping. He did so more because it was expected, but his dad rolled his eyes in that way he used to. Talia just shook her head.

“It was our pleasure. Cora told us what happened. She was worried.” Talia’s eyes flicked to Cora, who nodded along with it and smiled.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen him around, and I got worried. After you recover, come hang out, okay? We still need to watch Inception.” She said smoothly. “Sam and Jane have been bugging me about it forever.”

“Sure thing.” He smiled goofily, and the sensation was weirdly normal on this face. The face was used to it; he was not.

_Time to leave. Your dad’s getting impatient._

“Let’s go get the hospital check up over with, dad. Then we need to hit the grocery store. You’re not getting away with take out.” He informed the man, reaching forward and hugging Talia. She laughed silently as she squeezed back.

“Don’t be a stranger. Some time when you’re off, Sheriff, you should come over for dinner.” She said, and her face was set in a serene look. His dad was a little confused by the gesture, but nodded none–the-less.

“Sure thing.” He agreed, guiding Stiles to the entrance and waving as they left. When the door shut behind him, his dad pulled him into another hug, heaving a heavy breath and physically shaking. They stayed there like that, the wind building up and the clouds overhead reacting. Stiles swear it started to rain when he let loose a few tears.

_Careful, Stiles. You need to start reigning in the power. Letting it out on nature will backfire._

“I was so damned worried, son. So-,” he choked coughing to clear his throat and shook his head as he grasped Stiles by the shoulders. “We need to get you to the hospital. Son, you were in a coma.”

“I know. Two weeks?” he shrugged at the shocked look. “They told me I’ve been out that long. I don’t know why I came here, or even remember the process. Last thing I remember, I was trying to get somewhere… I was in a car, and then bam, suddenly pounding through the forest.”

“That’s not normal, Stiles.”

“I’m not normal, dad.” He shot back, giving him a quirky brow. His father was apparently not in the mood, and shook his head in frustration.

“Son, that might mean there was more brain damage than we thought. Let’s get you to Melissa. She’s been worried. Her and Scott have been looking for you with the department.” They were in the car now, and his dad started driving them down the bumpy path up to the house. Stiles looked up at the windows, and he could see Derek and Talia standing there, gazing back at him with strange looks on their faces. Almost… wistful.

“They’ve been looking for me?”

“You’ve been missing for five days, Stiles. The fact you can’t remember any of it is bad. Something happened, or you were taken out of the hospital, or … I don’t know. I was sitting in with you, and I must have passed out, and then I opened my eyes and you were _gone_.” The man gulped and gave a laugh filled with nerves. “You were gone, and I didn’t know if you were taken, or lost, or possessed, and- .”

“Dad. I’m here, I’m here now. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get to the hospital, and everything will be fine.” He assured him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. If he tried to calm his father down with a little force of will and magick, well… nobody needed to know.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, this body was not fine.

The previous Stiles was worse with his diet than he could even imagine having. He had used almost twice as much adderol, and his body was thin, almost unnaturally so. He had not only refused to play lacrosse, but he never exercised. His body had little fat on it, but the lanky frame held a useless amount of muscle. To be fair, his body was also malnourished and had been on liquid nutrients for weeks before.

As they took his blood pressure, he had the stress levels of a middle aged man. Cairn had explained the stress on the body was most likely caused by the switch, but there shouldn’t have been _that_ much. The previous Stiles had to have been struggling with something.

They took blood samples, which made Stiles extremely uncomfortable. He pretended to gag for his dad’s sake, because he remembered that he had once had a major aversion to the substance. They took urine sample, and said they’d run the blood work and set up a brain scan. Melissa informed them that the doctor had wanted to keep him there for observation, but she had managed to get him a supervised leave for home.

He loved that woman.

His father didn’t know which would be better, so he let Stiles choose. When Stiles complained about being tired, both of them freaked out a little, forgetting the blood they took from him. He fluttered his hands about and stopped their bickering.

“You took blood, my body is weak, I went crazy and ran through the woods for days without a single thought, I'm hungry again, and I really just want to curl up to my pillows and sing tragic songs about the woes of high school and existentialism. And dad is eating bad, very bad things, so I need to stuff him full of greens and secretly sand down his teeth.” He informed Scott’s mother, and his dad frowned. “What?! You need to become an herbivore to make up for the crimes you’ve committed.”

“And you’ll eat what exactly?”

“I’ll eat it too.” They stared at each other for a bit, and Stiles gave a reluctant sigh. “Fine, I’ll feed you chicken and fish. No red meat.”

“Mhm. Right. Thank you, Melissa.” He hugged her, and she gave a squeeze back.

“Don’t worry about it. Get him home, lock your fortress, and for heaven’s sake, get some sleep. You look like some of our worst patients here.” She smiled fondly at them, and they snorted and waved as they left. They hit the grocery store, and his dad gave long suffering sighs and looks at all the healthy food Stiles was shoving into the cart. Stiles also gathered some dried herbs he could use in a pinch – he really cracked himself up – in case he wanted to try to train his spell casting before he could leave the house.

When they got home, though, his dad started to shuffle about nervously. Stiles was putting away the food as his father came up, and cleared his throat in that terrible, horrible way that meant something difficult was about to be discussed.

“Dad?” he asked, his voice tightened and quiet.

“Stiles… when they brought you in, they noticed something strange.” His father came forward, holding his hands out for Stiles. Stiles was wary, but held them out. His father turned them over, and carefully, gently, slid the sleeves up.

Just up enough to see the first scar.

“They found light lacerations around your wrists, still healing and bandaged when they pulled you out of the jeep.” Oh Goddess, his father hadn’t sounded that broken since… since his mom had gotten cancer. Since she died. “I… what happened?”

He didn’t know.

_Here you must be careful. The previous Stiles’ pain was relevant… but no longer. Now, we manipulate how your father sees you and reacts to you. If you tell him you don’t know, he’ll have you psyched and evaluated by professionals who we can’t tell about magick. If you tell him you were depressed, he might medicate you. If you say you were lonely, he’ll insist on being around more, hindering your ability to practice and be present during supernatural conflicts._

Stiles bit his lip, shuddering a little at having to speak up for a version of him that must have suffered something. When he found the words, he spoke more from the heart than anything.

“I was lonely.” He said, and Cairn sighed. “I was depressed, and lonely, and Scott couldn’t understand, and… I don’t know. But I do, but it’s so damn _hard_ to get out. Speaking up and out about it when I never say a damned thing when I talk is infuriating, dad, and I didn’t know what to do.

“It got better when I started to talk to Cora. She gets what I’m saying, even when I'm bullshitting her and avoiding a problem. We haven’t hung out that much, and its mostly been a school thing, but she gets it. I’ve been the kind of lonely that doesn’t have much to do with family, and… I love Scott to death, he’s like a brother to me. It’s just so damn hard when he’s so focused on something, and I suddenly become the second thought. If he ever got a girl, I know I would be accidentally forgotten, and I didn’t know how to cope with that.

“These marks, these things, they were done because I didn’t know what to do. There was a crawling sensation, but not really, and I felt like I had to get something out, it had to _leave_ , but it wouldn’t. I just wouldn’t. So I cut. Just a little. And then more, and a few more times. Cora… she helped me when she found out. She tore me a new one, chewed me up, and hugged the shit out of me.” He paused his rant dwindling.

“Where I was, when I was lying in that bed in the hospital, was a terrible place. It also showed me how wonderful an opportunity I have here. Sure, school ain’t so easy, and yeah, Scott can be a bit dense. I may be flailing limbs and sarcasm so cheesy it’s started to age… But I have something here I can work with. I don’t want that dream when I was in a coma to come to life.” He drew in one shuddering breath before smiling. “This… this doesn’t need to happen again.”

“I…” The sheriff tried to speak, but couldn’t, simply closing his eyes and chuckling desperately, hugging onto Stiles tightly. “It better not. You come to me, or go to Cora, Scott, whoever helps. Leave a note, throw a text, something, _anything_ if you’re ever in that place again and need to see someone.”

“I will, dad. I’ll probably be over there and at Scott’s a lot more now.”

“I could take less shifts at work.” His dad offered, and Stiles eyed him critically.

“What are you always working on?”

“Oh, just increased amount of strange activity in the city district. Not so much crime, but weird gang signs and drugs on the streets.” His dad shrugged. “I can work on it more at home, be around more.”

“It’s ok, dad. You don’t have to. I will, however, insist on the healthier eating.” He glared with a scowl in place, and his dad stepped back with his hands in the air, smiling with a twinkle in his eye.

They chatted while Stiles put away the food in its proper place {and threw out the bad food, cleaned out the fridge, you know}, and he started to feel content where he was.

He wasn’t running in to grab a quick sandwich before running over to Derek’s to research wendigos. He wasn’t out trying to save Lydia from some witch intent on stealing her banshee powers. He wasn’t defending the pack from rogue hunters, or demons, or whatever else the supernatural could throw at them.

He was making his dad dinner, and actually sitting with him to eat it.

Near the end of the meal, his dad received a call from the station, something urgent. The sheriff looked down at his son, a troubled look passing through his features. Stiles smiled and waved him off.

“Go on. It’s probably important.”

“You’re more important.”

“And I am fine where I am. Go.” He insisted, picking up the dishes and clearing the table. His dad chewed it over before nodding and gathering his equipment.

“If you need anything, whatsoever – ,”

“I’ll call.” He went forward and hugged his father goodbye, smirking. “Go get the bad drug lords and crime syndicates, dad.”

“Will do. None of that in my town.”

And with that parting comment, Stiles was alone in the house.

 _Take me to a mirror. I like talking to you face to face, if that’s okay._ Cairn said casually, but he felt a sudden turn in spirit’s mood. Stiles cleaned up the counter and made sure everything was put away before ascending up the stairs.

He went to the bathroom, making a note he’d have to buy a full length mirror so he could see Cairn more often. When he got in, he looked up to see Cairn frowning a little, holding his arm already. When Cairn noticed he was visible, he clung tighter to it, snuggling into him and sighing. He could feel the sudden weight in the back of his mind.

“What’s wrong?”

“ _I’m not sure. You handled your father very well._ ” He murmured, and Stiles frowned back. Cairn looked up and sighed. “ _I just realized you have none of your spell books from the last world, and no way to get them. They’ve moved drastically over the country in this world. We’ll need to talk to Deaton very soon. Today, if possible._ ”

“Why?”

“ _You’re a lot more quiet when it’s just you and me._ ” He noted, causing Stiles to ark his brow.“ _Anyways, we need them for you to start studying, and lay protections on your house. I’d also think you’d want to protect your friends houses, maybe lay protections for your friends and the Hale pack._ ” He glanced around the bathroom. “ _You might want to acquire a full length mirror for your room. I can teach you better in there than in here._ ”

“I’ll work on that. Dad might not want me to leave yet… and I have no car to ignore that with.” He groaned. “I could ask Scott, but I’m not sure if I can handle him right now.”

“ _You can’t. He doesn’t have Allison yet, so he’s a little simple, and his world revolves around you and his mom. He’ll probably be texting you, only to realize your phone is dead and gone._ ” He giggled a little, a fond look on his tired face. “ _Scott is certainly something._ ”

“Tell me about it… wait.” Stiles had a thought. “I think… follow me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he dashed out and up to the attic on the last floor. He wouldn’t have dared enter here when he was younger, but he had gotten over that when he needed comfort in his mother’s things.

He looked to the corner, where an old, beautifully decorated body mirror stood.

_Oh, perfect. Take it downstairs. Carefully._

It took a bit of maneuvering around the room, but he eventually got it to the edge of the room. He cursed his weak, stupidly ignored body. The mirror descended the stairs slowly, step by step, and eventually got to the second floor. When he got it to his room, Cairn seemed pleased.

_You can put it where you want, but could I request that you place it next to your desk, facing your bed? It might make it easier on us. Also, I like being able to see myself._

That caught Stiles off guard as he placed it, pausing as he stood back and looked at the cloth covering most of the mirror.

“You can’t look at yourself without me? Like, at all? Why?” he asked as he took off the cloth, seeing Cairn clutching his arm like he had been earlier. The boy shrugged and shook his head.

“ _I don’t actually know. I think it has something to do with the fact that you’re a witch, and I have a special connection to you through your mother. No one else can see me, and I am defined by your perception of me. If you can’t see yourself, I can’t see my own form. I may have to think on it more before I have a clear answer._ ” He stepped back as Stiles adjusted the mirror, and Stiles could feel his presence tilt away.

“What happens to you when you’re not around?”

“ _I’m always around you, at least, now I am. I could leave, but I’d be worried about how long I’d be gone. Time doesn’t work the same here as it does among the dead. Also… it feels like I lose touch with this world if I'm not with you. The further I go, well… I’d wager it would pull me back to the other side, considering I have nothing else tying me here._ ” For a second, he looked troubled. Stiles tried to lay his hand over the spectral boy’s shoulders, but found the spectral bit to be all too true. His hand waved through air before Cairn subtly attached to it and hugged closer to him.

“Does it bother you to be here?”

He only got a twitch of the lips in return, and they both sighed as they stared at their strange, mismatching reflections. They stayed like that for countless minutes, stirring only when Cairn finally pointed to the window. It had grown orange outside, signaling the sunset.

“ _We should prep your home with some charms before your father gets back, Stiles. It’ll help us all sleep better._ ”

Stiles nodded and took the oil stick out of his pocket, using it under Cairn’s careful instructions. He used the alarm spell in layers around his room and around the perimeter of the house. He set about protections against basic things, like fire and storm damage, and then started to weave a spell to protect the humans living in residence at the house. He pricked his thumb and drew several runes with his blood, watching it seep into the wood, the concrete, whatever the barrier held to. It should protect anyone with his blood inside them.

“ _That has obvious disadvantages. Don’t bleed onto anyone with open wounds, or the spells laid here with think you preformed a covenant with them to allow them in_.” He warned, his face warbling in a pool of water Stiles knelt next to. He sucked his thumb and murmured a little healing spell over the prick, watching it scab cleanly.

“Noted. Now what should I do?” He asked wearily. The house was basked in were light of a newly descended night, glowing palely along with the surrounding plants. Stiles drew a deep breath as he got up and felt the slightly chilled air. He forgot that his house was in the perfect area to meditate in. He wondered if he had time, but knowing how dark it got this late, he’d need to eat a snack soon and recover from the magick he’d just cast.

 _Go eat. You need to go to sleep after, alright?_ Cairn’s gentle voice soothed him as he walked in. He nodded, knowing the affirmation was there, and set about making a small plate with crackers and fruits. He recalled the slightly surprised look his father had given him with the increased amount of greens and fruits he had gotten.

He took his plate upstairs, grabbing a glass of water, and settled at his desk to catch up on current affairs while he chewed through a few grapes. He frowned a bit when they didn’t appeal to him as much as they had before, but… well, considering they weren’t entirely _his_ taste buds, that would have to come with change.

That was never going to be not weird. Maybe.

He looked up everyone on facebook, snorting at Lydia and Jackson’s relationship hitting its down curve again. At least she was alive and significantly happier. Danny was in a relationship, no doubt to that blonde prick with the pretty face and the broad shoulders. Alison wasn’t on his news feed yet, which meant she hadn’t shown up. He hoped she did, if only to have one of his better friends back. If, maybe a little, to distract Scott and give him some bit of happiness.

Scott hadn’t been online in a few weeks, he saw, and it made his chest clench. He had missed his best friend, even through all the distractions and Isaac inserting his way inbetween them. At that thought, though, Stiles gasped.

The rest of his pack was alive here.

He quickly looked up Erica, breathing in relief when a picture of her, pre werewolf, popped up. She wasn’t friends with Stiles, so he added her, wincing when he realized he should maybe have planned to talk to her before suddenly barging into her life. From what he saw on her feed, she was quiet and still trying desperately happy. That wasn’t going to fucking fly while he was here.

She would have his support here. She shouldn’t be alone again.

Boyd was reserved, still, and wasn’t very active either. Isaac didn’t even appear to have a facebook. Stiles planned on befriending them slowly, Isaac being more of a priority to get him away from his abusive father. The kanima had done him more a favor than anything, even if it hurt to lose what had once been a loving father. Boyd was lonely, and would be hesitant, but he’d eventually be receptive.

Maybe he could even convince Talia to bite them….

 _Good luck with that_.

Cora and the twins both had facebooks, so Stiles added them before looking up events after the supposed date of the Hale fire, and well before to where the alpha pack’s members became monsters. He felt a twinge when he realized Ethan and Aiden wouldn’t be here, and would most likely be the omega’s of their pack still. He’d see if he could contact them at a later date.

 _You. Yes, you. You need sleep, and you can’t save everyone in the few hours you’ve had control of. Come on, sleep on a few plans for what you’re going to do when you get back to school in a few days._ He felt a weird pull, and he snorted as he let it happen and got up, dragging himself to bed with a disgruntled face.

“I... I need them. I need them to be where I can protect them. They’re vulnerable.” He yawned, feeling the aches of latent magick escaping his body. This form, it wasn’t built up to the consequences yet. Cairn gave an exasperated grumble, pressing his conscious closer to Stiles’. Stiles heard a little lullaby murmuring inside his head, unsure by the tone if it was Cairn or not. When he closed his eyes, though, it did its work, and he fell asleep with his veins coursing with new energy.

Cairn looked up into the mirror, his eyes entirely eclipsed in darkness. He frowned, drawing wards on Stiles forehead before kissing it goodnight and humming his lullaby.

He sang throughout the entire evening, gazing down at his charge with a light confusion that rattled his spirit.

 

* * *

 

Stiles awoke with a sense of urgency, realizing rather quickly that his alarm spell had been tripped. He looked up to see sunlight streaming high through the window, and his clock read that it was almost noon. He didn’t feel like it was entirely too urgent, and an amused Cairn answered his barely thought question.

“ _That was the alarm spell set on the property. Your father is speaking with someone downstairs, I believe it’s a well wisher. She brought this offensive looking casserole that your father doesn’t even want to touch. I believe its your neighbor, Miss Callaway?_ ” He said with a light smile in the mirror. He stroked Stile’s fuzzy head, and Stiles groaned as he buried his head into the pillows.

“I swear, if she doesn’t stop trying to get it in my dad’s pants, I’m gonna hex her horrendous, haggish, hellish-,” he heard a laugh that cut him off from downstairs, and Cairn tsked him airily.

“ _Always avoid alliterations, Stiles. They’re thankless thieves, who wholly hope you break down in sobs._ ” Stiles flailed around his bed groggily, getting up and stripping down to take a shower.

“Oh, shush. I’ll alliterate away if I want to. You’re not my English teacher.”

_I might as well be. Don’t sass me, Stilinski._

Stiles stopped when he looked back at the mirror, his nose wriggling when he realized how skinny he was. He dropped to the floor and attempted to do as many push ups as he could. When he collapsed at fourteen, he cursed and switched to sit ups. At six, he got up and shook his head at the slight sheen of sweat on his skin. He’d definitely need to up the protein intake to help with that.

He took a steaming shower, glad to get clean with his own familiar shampoo and bodywash. When he got back to his room, he put on some sweats and a familiar flannel shirt. When he went downstairs, he could hear incessant cackling, signaling their guest was still in.

He clenched his teeth briefly before going lax and adopting a tired expression. When he walked in, he saw his dad smiling with a slightly disgruntled expression, with an oblivious woman in front of him, dyed red hair bouncing viciously as she slapped the counter with her bejeweled hand. Her clothes were, at best gaudy, and she wore a very heavy amount of makeup.

Her left eyelash was falling off. How did a woman like this actually exist outside of fiction?

“Well hello, Stiles! I’m so glad you’re feeling better!” She exclaimed, clutching at the jewels around her chest. Stiles’ eyes narrowed slightly as he observed that, though gaudy, her jewels were actual gemstones. Big, pure gemstones. They were all sparkling with a little latent energy.

“Hello Ms. Callaway. I’m feeling a bit better, but I’m still exhausted.  Slept for two weeks, you’d think I’d be done with sleep!” he smiled wide, and she laughed loudly over that too. The Sheriff gave him a desperate eye as she nodded her big red hairdo.

“Well, you should really get more rest, darling. I have to go get my hair done, been missin’ my appointment for days now.” She gathered her purse – _That is not a purse, that is a monster_ – and flashed a supposedly dazzling smile at them, waving her fingers as she took her leave. When the door shut with a final farewell, his dad let out a large gust of air, shaking his head and giving the casserole a doubtful look.

“That was… something. She stayed for over an hour.” He lamented, picking up the casserole and starting for the fridge.Stiles raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

“Ah-ah. Gimme. That abomination leaves this home the way it rightfully should.” His nose scrunched up as the spongy smell hit it, and he pitched it with a smug expression. Up until Cairn gave a worried chuckle.

 _She was a witch_.

“Beautiful.” He murmured; that explained why she set off the alarm. His dad, thinking he meant the casserole, gave a chuckle.

“It’s certainly something. By the way, Scott came by today. You should really congratulate him on his self control; he didn’t run upstairs and maul you. Call him if you’re feeling up to it. The boy missed you like crazy, son.” He gave a huff as he gathered his gear and badge, looking back at Stiles’ with a small grimace. “I’ve gotta get to the station. There was a disturbance last night at one of the sights.”

“You go get’em dad. I’ll call Scott and we’ll… bro bond. Or watch Gilmore Girls. Could go either way.” He smirked and ducked his head when his father ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Stay in!” He called, and Stiles hollered an affirmative. When his father’s presence was gone, Cairn sighed.

“How dangerous is she?”

_On a scale of mesquito to demon? A Bumblebee. She’s annoying at best, and she came over today probably to check out your new wards. She probably believes you’re not actually Stiles, and you’re possessed by a demon. She might try to ward you off, thinking she’s some big shot caster. I’ll interfere directly if it gets bad._

“Good… well… Jesus, what should I tell Scott? I’m not tired anymore. And I really should get him over here. But I don’t know what to say, and I just woke up, and he’s going to ask questions, and if _dad_ knew about the cuts, then Scott is going to figure it out real quick, real fast. Ugh!” he paced throughout the kitchen, and he twitched slightly as he did so. That made him scowl and shake his head. The twitch had been out of his control. He forgot what that used to feel like.

_Be as honest as you like. Tell him the same thing you told your dad. Or, hide them, but stick close._

Stiles shook his head and grabbed the phone, feeling bitter over the start up of this new life.

_At least you’re not dead, right?_

 

* * *

 

Scott… Scott while he was human was probably one of the most awkward things that Stiles had ever seen, since himself. No wonder the two of them were at the bottom of the food chain at school. He had the incredibly uneven jawline, the messy cute hair, and those damn puppy eyes. He also had your average IQ, thin and average muscle tissue, and a pretty terrible case of asthma.

Also had a surprisingly high awareness of when something was wrong in this world.

“Stiles, why would you do that? WHAT HAPPENED? DID I-,” Scott had started yelling after he had seen the scars on Stiles’ wrist, naturally, and Cairn could feel the boy getting tired of all the attention already. He warned the witch that Scott was dangerously close to an asthma attack.

“Scott, please calm down, I can explain and it’ll be fine, but you need to ca-,”

“STILES!!! WE PROMISED THAT WE-… we,” Scott coughed subtly, shaking his head and chest heaving as his body constricted slightly. Stiles could almost see the effects on his energy, the outline of it just faltering slightly. “We promised we would go to each other if it got that bad. Is that why you called? Did y-you try to get to m-me that night?”

That brought Stiles up short, because he honestly didn’t know. Would he go to Scott for something like this? _He_ personally wouldn’t, but he experienced Scott becoming too involved with being a werewolf and that changed a lot of things. He, Stiles Stilinski, the human who only ever had one friend, lost his mom, and had a dad who was never home?

Yeah, he’d go for Scott.

“I was trying, Scott-,”

_Not… the best thing to say._

“Oh my god! It was my fault! You got into that wreck because you were trying to get to me! I didn’t answer the phone, I thought you just wanted to hang out! I’m so _stupid_ -,” he lamented, and his lungs chose to constrict then, refusing to back down. Stiles watched as Scott dropped to the couch to the side, clutching his chest. Stiles reached for Scotts bag, retrieving the inhaler from the front pocket and putting it to the gasping boy’s mouth.

“Scott, bite down, come on, open up, there we go.” He babbled smoothly, pushing down on the press. Scott’s eyes widened after a second as nothing happened. The inhaler didn’t make the sound of medicine coming out of it, just empty air. There’s was a beat of silence before both of them freaked out a bit.

 _Stiles, you need to press your hands over his lungs._ He struggled to get Scott to lean against the couch, pressing his unsteady hands against the span of his ribs. _Good, now breathe for him. Create a rhythm, in and out, and send out energy through your fingertips._

Stiles managed to do so, going into a meditative state while helping Scott breathe. He could feel Scott’s surprise give way to relaxation underneath his thin fingers, his heart beating at a steadier pace than before, his lungs opened and ready for the air his body so desperately needed. When Stiles felt the peace from his magick turn to rapture, he withdrew. He didn’t need Scott to feel that, at least not yet.

They sat there, on the couch, gazing into each other’s eyes, a quiet moment enveloped them. Stiles was worried, and anxious, and worried all over again about so many things, and Scott was weak and defenseless and people picked on him, they _pushed him into lockers_ , they laughed, and they, the two of them, were so vulnerable before. Stiles hadn’t realized just how much changes when the supernatural swallows your life.

He couldn’t lose his best friend again.

He dove forward, clinging to his best friends chest as he awkwardly – was there any other way? – landed on his mid section, holding on as tightly as he dared, and feeling tears streak his cheeks as Scott wrapped his arms around his shoulders, squeezing back just as much.

Scott smelled like the old days, he realized. When he was a werewolf, he had stopped wearing so much deodorant, complaining that it was irritating to his skin. He started wearing leather, and he gave off this inhuman smell. Not like human skin, but kind of like a dogs fur has its own smell? Something natural, but not in the context it was placed.

Now he smelled like old spice, specifically the sports kind, and axe body wash, because he was a classic jock even if he was on bench most of the time. He smelled like the generically clean scent his mom used to wash his clothes, and he smelled a little like skin and hair, human, basic. He was warm, and he was familiar, and it had been a dreadfully long time since he had that, the closeness and comfort.

“Next time….” Scott murmured, rubbing his shoulders and sighing. Stiles nodded against him, easing into their strange position.

“I will.”

And that was that.

They stayed like that for well over an hour, just chatting and getting reacquainted with each other’s presence. After it hit three, they heated up some pizza rolls Scott had brought over – contraband if his father was in the house – and played a few rounds of old school battlefront. It had been a while since Stiles had last played a round of videogames with his pal, so he was a bit rusty. Scott didn’t comment on that, though, and just enjoyed the thrashing he could give while Stiles wasn’t at his best A game.

They continued on like that for a bit, sometimes discussing things at school. Scott told him about Lydia, giving him a smirk and a side look, and Stiles gave a small smile. He was glad to hear his queen had been happy while he was gone. After a troubled second of Scott not understanding why he lost interest, he asked about Danny and the rest of the team, and Scott gave some animated descriptions of their one win in the time he had been in a coma.

When Stiles asked about Erica, Scott frowned, shrugging and mentioning that she had several seizures, and kids were not kind to her for it. He didn’t even know about Boyd, and everyone kind of forgot about the subpar lacrosse player Isaac. Stiles felt his mood darkening as he realized none of them had presence in the school before their turning. But of course they didn’t; Derek had picked them out because of it. The people in school that had close to nothing, the people that had less to lose by taking the bite.

“Why the sudden interest in them?” Scott asked. Stiles looked into his best friend’s eyes and shrugged.

“I just saw them in a dream.”

He was already forming a plan, well into the night. Scott stayed over, and they both fell asleep on Stiles’ bed, comfortable and calm. Cairn watched from the mirror, frowning slightly as he observed them. He went over to where Scott rested, eyes blacked out and the frown turning thin. After a few minutes passed, Stiles stirred and groaned, his face contorting as some nightmare took him over. Before Cairn could do anything, Scott gave a small cough and leaned over.

“I got ya buddy….” He whispered with a raspy voice, hugging Stiles closer and settling back down. Stiles became noticeably calmer, and Cairn gave Scott a rueful smile.

“ _You can stay._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and for leaving your comments! Feedback helps a lot, and i love to know what you enjoyed about the chapters and aspects.  
> Cairn is almost literally taking on a life of his own. We'll see what he does next, eh?


	4. Is that mistletoe and nightshade?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It had been dormant here, just a stump.” Deaton went on slowly, pacing the circle. Morrell went the other direction.  
> “But the night you came here… it was awoken.” She said, and it almost sounded like an accusation.  
> I don’t like this, Stiles. Cairn keened, voice high and bristling. Stiles could see the boy in little reflective surfaces, and the demon’s face was contorted in anger and threat. Deaton continued speaking, unaware of the potential danger of the demon with Stiles.

“ _You know, I find your lack of organization charming, but you really should have been more prepared for school. That does happen in, oh, twenty minutes._ ” Cairn said as he piggybacked on Stiles. Said witch was scrambling around the room, gathering his various books and miscellaneous items. When Stiles looked up towards the mirror, limbs in strange position on the ground and Cairn on top, he gave a disturbed face.

“Yeah, the fact that you’re doing that and I can’t literally feel it is just kinda creepy, thanks. Let’s go, can’t be late my first day back. Ugh, I’ll have to deal with Harris again, wont I?” He muttered bitterly as he pulled on his old high school clothes. Those ones that weren’t actually old, cuz, you know, he was going to high school now. “And I am never going to get over being seventeen again!”

_You’ll get over it when you turn eighteen._ Cairn said brightly, maybe even a little snidely.

“Haha, very funny. Don’t suppose you have any super magickal insight to today, huh? Not gonna lie, I don’t think I can physically defend myself in the state I’m in. I need to set up a training session with….” He paused, blankly searching his mind for someone. “I’d normally say Derek, Boyd, and Isaac. Huh.”

_Go over today after school and deal with it there. Ask about the books, set up a training schedule, and then maybe spend time with them? They view you as pack. That means they already miss the crap out of you._

“Fine.” He sighed in exasperation. He ran down the stairs and threw together a healthier lunch than his body had probably seen in a few years. He grabbed an apple and dashed to the entry hall, grabbing his keys and shooting out the door. Scott was there, looking bored and frowning.

“Dude, you’re pushing it close.” Scott remarked as Stiles jumped in the passenger seat. Stiles muffled around the apple in his mouth, taking it out and snapping back.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and drive.” He took an angry bite out of his apple to punctuate it, and Scott rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the drive.

Stiles was actually pretty anxious about going back to high school. They were currently in the middle of their junior year, and he had no idea where he stood today. In the other world, at this time, they had already faced Kate, Peter as an alpha, and the Kanima fiasco. Scott had made first line, Lydia had started liking him, Allison had joined the school, and Harris was about to die.

Here? Any number of things could go wrong.

“Hey… just so you know, someone’s been going around school telling Jackson and his goons to back off. He might be a total ass when he talks, but I think they’re going to give you some breathing room for now.” Scott informed him before he could get out of the car. Stiles looked back with a sassy brow.

“Well, that was awfully nice of the vigilante, giving me immunity.” He got out of the car, rolling his shoulders and looking around. “By the way, I’m gonna go to the Hale’s after school today. I don’t think Finstock would let me practice, and I can probably get to of just sitting on the bench, right?”

“Wait, what? The Hales! Since when? Why? What?” Scott sputtered, catching up to Stiles as he moved quickly from the car. People had already started pausing to stare at him, some of them already giggling or snickering behind closed hands. Fingers pointed, voices lowered, and Stiles could just _tell_ that today would be terrible.

And then, a shy blonde head of hair stood out to him from the corner of the entrance.

She was in a denim, bejeweled jacket, with a skirt that went below her kneecaps. Her shoes were plain sneakers, and her hair was mussed up a bit and covering quite a bit of her face. Her button nose and wide eyes were staring shyly at him in concern, and he smiled up at her.

_She’s been taking her medication, I see…_ Cairn commented dryly. Stiles could feel a sense of sadness from the demon, and he understood. She was having one of her bad days, and she had attempted to make up for it with clothing that covered her perceived imperfections.

“We’ll make it better.” He muttered under his breath, entering the building with Scott eagerly in tow.

He felt a wave of nostalgia hit him as he observed the halls. Kids he vaguely recognized swarmed around him, leaning against lockers, staying in groups as they walked together. He saw Lydia being coy at her locker, talking to one of the basketball players. Jackson, across the way, staring with barely held contempt. Danny, next to him, laughing a little at their situation.

Isaac was huddled against his locker, Stiles noticed in passing, and Boyd was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t really expecting to find the quiet giant until lunchtime, but it would have been nice to see everyone. Except Greenberg. Nobody wanted to see Greenberg.

_People to watch out for today, I think. First, Jackson. He’s bitter because he called Lydia stupid, and she didn’t take it kindly. He’s itching for a fight._ He certainly looked to be. _Second, and this is strange. Remember dearest Matt?_ Stiles paled a bit as he dropped by his locker, putting away his unnecessary books and glancing down the hall.

Matt Daehler, photographer and lacrosse player, victim of drunk swimmers, and controller of the Kanima… he looked just fine. Same somewhat bored and snide look on his face, but maybe a bit more mellow? He couldn’t fully tell.

_He won’t have access to the Kanima. I worry that he may be a threat later on. His spirit is shaken, and his heart is unstable. If someone doesn’t fix it soon, he’ll break and turn into what we’ve seen._ Cairn paused as surveyed the area. _Pity, that. We can’t save everyone. The third I would watch out for is, of course, your all too human nemesis; Harris. He holds no real threat, but he will show no mercy on you. He’ll mock your situation, and you need to keep your calm. No magick against him. It wouldn’t bode well._

Stiles had this in his mind all day, as he went from class to class, half listening to everything he’d already learned. When he arrived in Harris’s class, he had a sort of permanent frown in place, his jaw set tight and his body rigid.

Harris was writing on the chalk board, sharp and precise, and his lesson plan was as flawless as ever. Stiles actually remembered this one, and knew the answers to the problems stated already. Scott scooted closer to his best friend, and Cairn noted fondly that he was trying to shield Stiles from view. A useless effort, but appreciated none the less.

“Class….” Harris started loudly as the bell rang, turning around and using his classic judgmental prick voice. “Is now in session. Schoenhalls, you have thirty minutes of detention for being late. And Stilinski, looks like you finally decided to join us.”

“Yeah, well, a coma tends to keep you in one place.” He said dryly. Harris just gave him an unimpressed look before turning back to the board.

“Well, we all feel safer knowing you won’t be on the road.” Harris said casually as he wrote on the board. “Now, because most of you can’t achieve satisfactory results on your own, and because two minds are supposedly greater than one, I will be partnering you up today. Your abnormally small attention spans will have to focus for just a moment, to ensure that you don’t blow up anything in this lab.”

Harris started calling out names in pairs, and Stiles waited to be called. Scott got called with Danny, and Jackson was called with someone else from the team. When he was finally called, he found that everyone had already been paired. Harris looked down at him with a pitying smirk.

“It appears Greenberg didn’t make it to class, today. I wonder if he’s in a coma, too? Or maybe he was just having car trouble.” Harris looked down at the assignment. “You will be participating in this lab alone.”

“Fine.” Stiles looked down at the assignment, frowning when he saw which one it was. A little bit of nostalgia hit him when he recognized the steps. “We’re making candy crystals.”

“Yes, Stilinski. Try not to burn it.”

Stiles looked around for the people he knew were in the class in the other world. Lydia was paired off with some other girl, and she looked absolutely bored. Of course she would, this was overly simple for her. Isaac in the corner, quietly doing his part. Erica was in the front, working with some boy who wouldn’t look at her. Jackson was looking bored, and Danny was-

Danny was staring at him.

_Why is Danny staring at you?_ Cairn asked suspiciously, and Stiles just bit his lip and went about working the materials I front of him. Beaker in hand, he glanced up to find Danny still throwing glances his way.

“I have no clue.” He muttered under his breath. He looked down at himself, checking to make sure he hadn’t gotten food or something on his shirt. Nope, clean.

_You’re moving like you do when you feel threatened. Harris set you off. Slack your muscles a bit._ Stiles tried, but knew the tension wasn’t leaving his muscles. _It is what it is. Just continue working and ignore him._

“Easier said than done.”

Stiles worked silently on his lab, measuring out the components carefully and following the procedures more thoroughly than he had before. Of course, in the other world, he had been worried about the death of his ultimate love. He snorted a bit at the thought.

When they came to a closing point in class, Harris stood once more and smiled condescendingly. The class sat down and looked into their beakers.

“Now, here’s the part that some of you will enjoy, others… well. If you were successful, you should now see a crystal formation inside your beakers. The best part being this; you can eat it.” His smile turned a little darker as he glanced at some of the obviously slimed and failed projects. “No matter what stage you were at, or what went wrong, it is still edible. The taste, though, may not be to your liking. Everyone in the group will now have to test their success.”

Harris walked over to Stiles and glanced down at his successful experiment. He raised a brow and his lips thinned, obviously disappointed that Stiles wouldn’t be failing this lab.

“Stilinski, it appears you somehow grew a brain during your recovery. Congratulations, you actually made it correctly.” He sounded unimpressed, however, and Stiles just avoided his eyes and looked down. He was starting to get really irritated, and Harris just kept going.

“I would accuse you of cheating, but that might be giving you too much credit. You might have grown a brain, but I doubt you’re capable of that much preemptive thought.” He snorted, looking into the beaker. Stiles lips thinned as the air around him grew a little colder. Cairn flared up in his awareness, almost stifling in his presence.

_Do NOT use magick against him._

“Well, enjoy your candy.” He said with a touch of sarcasm, moving on to other tables. Scott looked over at him with a sorry expression, and Stiles just shrugged and popped one of the crystals into his mouth. It fizzled a little bit and dissolved into an almost strawberry flavor on his tongue, and he sighed in a mild contentment and stress relief.

Class got out, and Scott bounced over to him, face contorted in worry. Stiles held up a hand and shook his head.

“I’m fine. He had nothing to really bug me about. He’s just pissed that I did it right.” He shrugged as they made their way to lunch. When they got there, Stiles paused at a slight change in hierarchy.

Cora was a Hale, which was a duh, of course he knew they’d attract attention. What surprised him was how many more popular kids she actually hung out with. Jackson and Lydia were at the end of the table, followed by Danny and a few other lacrosse players. After that were a few other girls, probably from the cheerleading team or volleyball, and then there was Cora, with two very open, very empty seats next to her. She was already looking in his direction, giving him an inside smirk.

“I think we’ve just been invited to the all-star table.” Stiles muttered. She nodded from across the room and smiled wider. “That would be a yes. Grab your food and sit next to me, kay?”

People watched as he made his way across the room, and Jackson looked up in shocked disgust.

“Stilinski, The loser table is on the other side of the room. You know, the one far away from us.” He said coolly, and Lydia snorted. Danny raised his perfectly plucked brow, but made no other comment. Cora, however, spoke up.

“I want him here. Deal with it, Whittemore. Hey, Stiles, how’s the head doing?”

“Better. Finally convinced dad to let me come to school. Already missed enough Harris to have him creepin’ down my back.” He set his stuff down next to her took out his lunch. “Hey, you mind if I come over after school? I’ve got to pick up-, those exact books, thank you.”

She pulled out a few books from her backpack, and he could literally feel the magick inside them. They had active wards inside them, and he carefully shuffled them into his backpack.

“Now I don’t have an excuse to see your beautiful face.” He pouted, and she smirked knowingly.

“You mean my brother’s beautiful face.”

“It’s really not fair; you’re entirely family just popped out of a modeling catalogue. The kids look like they could be in a movie, and you’re all a part of Hallmark or something.” He snarked, and she laughed.

“What can I say, we’ve got perfect genes.”

“Can’t argue on that.” He flashed a smile and bit into his sandwich with gusto. Scott came up nervously, clutching his tray and shooting bewildered glances between the werewolf and the witch. Not that he had any inkling of those facts, but…well. It really didn’t make sense from the outside.

_I have decided I hate teenagers._ Cairn said simply as Stiles took a drink. He almost spit it out, earning amused or annoyed looks from the rest of the table. Cairn answered his unspoken question. _They’re full of contempt, greed, and self righteous behavior. The only thing separating them from adults is that they know close to nothing of life. It makes them unbearable._

Stiles lips quirked in response, and he laughed along with some joke Cora made that he didn’t really hear. Scott smiled and chuckled like he was about to die any second, and Danny, god dammit Danny wouldn’t stop staring at him.

The bell signaling lunch was over rang above them, and Cora leaned in close before Stiles could leave.

“Deaton will be there tonight. It’s a pack meeting… Mother wants you there. After, we were going to have dinner. You should stay.” She smiled in her mildly snarky manner, but also sincerely. Stiles nodded and flashed a grin.

“Okay, cool. I was gonna ask you if I could drop by anyways. What time does Mr. Cryptic come by?” he asked, gathering his things and holding a finger up for Scott to wait.

“Five. You can ride with us from school, if you want.” She offered, looking over to Scott. “Sorry, gonna have to steal your Stiles.”

“Um, that’s okay, I guess?”

“Good. Meet in the parking lot. Laura is picking us up.” She gave a farewell wave as she went her own way to class, followed by a few of her friends. She looked like she had her own pack away from home, and Stiles loved that he actually got to see it. Scott watched her for a long second, shortly followed by an explosive reaction.

“Since when has that been a thing? We have never, _ever_ been cool with popular people, Stiles! That doesn’t just happen over night!” he gestured around, and Stiles shifted uncomfortably and went on the defensive.

“They were the family that found me first. They took care of me for the few days I wasn’t myself. She and I connected a bit.” He shrugged. “It’s a thing, Scott. It may not have been a thing before, but it is now. I can’t explain it to you any better than that.”

Scott remained silent as they moved on to the next class, and before they entered he looked up with surprisingly fragile eyes, his face open and vulnerable.

“Just… don’t forget me.” He muttered, looking down. Stiles clasped his shoulder and smiled grimly.

“It’s hard to forget a face like this. Even when it has hair sprouting out weird places, glowing red eyes, and an entirely too suspicious withdrawal of eyebrow hair.” Scott shot him a confused look, and he snorted with his little inside joke and headed towards his class with a wave.

 

_Is it just me, or are wolves always extremely intimidating in public settings?_ Crain asked, following Stiles’ gaze across the parking lot.

Derek was leaning against a nice, sleek… minivan. The long dark jeans and the muscle shirt covered in dirt and grease was unusual, but it did fit the bad boy image he had. In the other world. Now his surly look seemed entirely out of place, without the proper context. Cora looked unimpressed as she approached the van with the twins, and Stiles followed suit.

As the got near the van, Derek’s surly attitude was explained. “You managed to crash the bike into a tree how, exactly?”

_Sudden drama reminds me of… what is it, soap operas? Melodramas? That thing on tv that wastes your time?_

“Peter wanted me to practice on a bike just in case I needed to get away on a more human level. I kinda suck with loud noises, Derek. Where’s Laura, anyways?” Cora snorted as she got into the passenger seat. The twins followed behind them, and Stiles followed into the far back. Derek huffed and broke down to a less intimidating look, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“She got held up at work. Hello, Stiles. How was your first day back?” he asked in a pleasant voice, eyes focused on his in the rear view mirror. Stiles blinked before clearing his throat.

“I, um, had an alright day, I guess. You know, back in high school and all that stuff.” He didn’t know what to say after that, and Derek nodded as if he understood.

“I had to skip my senior year because I got too aggressive with another team mate. He was annoying, and antagonized us. He gave Laura unwanted attention, and I had had enough.” Derek informed the witch, and his hazel eyes tightened a bit. “I graduated after he left. I know it’s not the same, but going back after not having to is strange.”

Stiles nodded, uncomfortable with the ease of connecting with the older wolf. He could see Cairn’s eyes in the mirror, gazing back from depths he wasn’t sure he could fully understand. Were things ever going to be normal?

What was normal?

The girls talked about their day readily, and Derek paid the twins attention with small smiles and an open face. He gave Cora some little frowns along the way, but she was unbothered by them. As they made their way through the woods to get to the house, Cairn spoke up again.

_I wonder what tonight will have in store for us._

Stiles shot a look in the mirror, confused, and Cairn’s eyes looked unapologetic.

_There’s never a dull moment in Beacon Hills, Stiles. Not for those like us. I’m just wondering what this particular version will have in waiting. Talia’s pack protects the area, with several smaller packs paying respects to her. Hunters also reside in the area, at the ready to help the wolves for once. You’re an active witch, which will help her with magickal needs. There’s a great spiritual convergence here. Stiles, I hate to say it, but this isn’t going to be a walk in the park._

“More like the woods.” He muttered, earning glances from the wolves in the car. He shrugged sheepishly and grabbed his bag as the Hales moved gracefully out. He landed with a bit of an awkward footing, of course, and he naturally started to fall face first.

And of course, Derek caught him. Because why not?

“Careful, there.” He murmured, righting the boy and clearing his throat. He smelled like a mechanics shop, and of course that was somehow worse than his usual cologne and leather scent.

_Deaton’s already here_.

Stiles paused as Cairn’s words echoed through him. He looked through the door, stretching out his senses as far as he dared. He found a pulse he hadn’t felt before, plus several wolves, and a few humans. Cairn, of course, was right next to him, drawing him back to the world.

_You need to be careful using active abilities. You’re still not up the level of energy in this body that let you use it so freely back in the other plane._ He warned, and his voice sounded stressed. Stiles walked through the door, comfortable enough to assume he’d be safe.

But something nagged at his mind as he followed the wolves further into the home. When he stepped into the kitchen, with everyone watching him, he hadn’t expected anything but a warm greeting. Cairn surrounded him with sudden alarm, and he saw they nervous glint in Laura’s eyes a second too late.

He looked down to see he was standing in a circle of ashes, and he whirled to find Deaton finishing the circle. He bit his lip in frustration as he lifted his hand to the invisible force, flinching as it repulsed his hand away. Cairn’s anger flared in his mind, and he could hear the demon muttering ways to break out of it.

“What’s going on?” he asked, glaring between Talia and Deaton. Ms. Morrell stepped out from behind her brother, and Stiles sighed. “Great, the schools best councilor.”

“You don’t seem very surprised, Stiles.” She said cooly and calmly. He shrugged.

“I’ve come to learn you like to stick your fingers in every cookie jar.” He shrugged. She arced one perfectly plucked brow, looking back into his eyes with a steel he had been long since immune to. He stared back with a flat expression and narrowed eyes. “Explain.”

“Does the word ‘nemeton’ mean anything to you Stiles?” Deaton asked, carefully observing the witch for any reaction. There was a blink and a pause before Stiles could respond.

“Yeah, the chopped down tree. With the root cellar in it. Source of intense magical power, center of ley lines and currents, beacon to supernatural creatures all around the nation while it was full grown and alive, hence the name Beacon Hills. Reawoken in our world and on the fast track to growing back before all hell broke loose and all my friends died. Why do you ask?” he questioned, feeling the answer whisper its tidings along his mind, teasing. The druids shared a significant look before turning back to him.

“It had been dormant here, just a stump.” Deaton went on slowly, pacing the circle. Morrell went the other direction.

“But the night you came here… it was awoken.” She said, and it almost sounded like an accusation.

_I don’t like this, Stiles._ Cairn keened, voice high and bristling. Stiles could see the boy in little reflective surfaces, and the demon’s face was contorted in anger and threat. Deaton continued speaking, unaware of the potential danger of the demon with Stiles.

“The nemeton has been nothing but a stump for decades, Stiles. Now? It’s a fully grown tree with several surrounding trees to keep it hidden, safe.” He pulled something out of his pocket, a vial of some purple substance. Morrell did the same.

“Two weeks, Stiles. You may be aware that trees take decades to gain any ground and grow that large.” Her thin smile was cutting and accusing. “You were the trigger.”

“What we need to know, however, is not how it happened.” Deaton came to the edge of the circle, opening the vial. “We simply need to be… reassured.”

“Reassured of what, exactly?” Stiles asked after a beat. Morrell gave one of her bleak smiles, and Stiles stomach twisted in a few knots as she opened her bottle and took out some of the purple powder.

“That you are you.” She said simply, trickling the powder onto the mountain ash, walking clockwise, or sunwise. Deaton mirrored her, and Stiles winced as he felt Cairn panic.

_NO! Stiles, they’re going to hurt me! Please, please do something!_ Cairn sobbed, and Stiles could feel Cairn press his being up against as much of Stiles as he possibly could. Cairn started speaking in some tongue Stiles couldn’t decipher, though it sounded much like the lullaby he sang to him when he had trouble falling asleep.

“Stop.” He said, holding his head as an ache formed. Cairn’s voice grew louder, and Morrell and Deaton simply continued pouring that damned powder from their fingers. The Hales were looking on warily, and some of them had sprouted fangs and claws, unsure of what to expect.

There’s a pounding in his head, and it won’t go away.

Cairn won’t stop singing in fear, suffocating him with his spirit. The words confused and desperate. The thoughts invading Stiles’ head were not his own, and he understood that if it continued, Cairn would accidentally possess him.

The Hales are growling, some of them concerned and looking worried, and they’re just standing there doing _nothing_.

He can _feel_ the powder hitting the mountain ash. Each sprinkle from Deaton sparking down his spine, while Morrell’s little dumps of powder hit him like a ton of bricks to the chest

It’s too damn much.

“Please, stop it.” He gets out, his throat tight and his body aching. His hands are shaking, and he feels like he’s breathing in chemicals. His vision is hazy, and there’s this pulsing around him, like he’s doomed, like he’s in the center of a club, like he’s falling from an explosion, or fireworks, and it’s so much it _hurts_.

Cairn is crying now, sobs wracking through Stiles mind, and the druids just keep going, and that pisses him off, because he asked _nicely_. They just keep using magic to keep the substance going, and they either need to stop or they need to be stopped. They need to be stopped, because Cairn’s crying, and he's so young, and how _dare_ they hurt someone so young.

The mountain ash is covered in thin amounts of the purple powder, and Stiles sneers at it, looking up and catching Morrell’s eye. She looks back, curious and mysterious and so infuriating. She cocks her head at him, still moving, and he actively follows her, turning his body to match.

“Stop.” He says, baring his teeth slightly. He doesn’t blink, and neither does she. They both just keep focused on each other, moving round, and round, and round….

Cairn is screaming now.

“Enough.” His head is pounding, and he pounds his fist against the barrier. It stops his hand, just like it’s supposed to, but he can feel a reinforced layer, just below his fingertips. He strokes the edge, feeling under it like paper. He looks up, eyes searching and head cocked. His voice lilts out in a dangerous, smooth way he doesn’t recognize. He can feel some of Cairn’s knowledge lending itself to the answer. “Is that mistletoe and nightshade?”

Morrell, for the first time since he’s known her, looked subtly shocked. Stiles shook his head, clenching his fists tightly in rage. He pounded his fist against the barrier, a shock of magenta shooting through the colors instead of a bright, magick blue. He breathed in deeply and out raggedly, looking up into her eyes.

When he saw her smug reaction to his failure, and with one last shriek of pain from Cairn, he snapped.

He pounded against the barrier harder, spitting venom in the form of basic words. He spat out anger and hate, the will to survive, oppression. He spat out ideals and horrors while he pounded his fist against the magenta prison. When he felt something give way when he hissed ‘vanity’, he knew he’d found a weak point.

He focused on Morrell and no one else, ignoring the trickles of blood coming from his abused fist. He looked at her, eyes mysterious and eyebrow arched in that incredibly infuriating way. He started to laugh harshly, shaking his head as Cairn entered his head, his body. He felt the phase like someone pulling a cloth from the surface of water to the center.

Cairn, now protected from the influence, was beyond enraged.

Stiles’ and Cairn’s fury melded together as they acted.

“Vanity!” they shouted together, punching through the barrier, warping it and dispelling it as they grabbed Morrell by the throat, surprising everyone else around them. They threw her through the doorway behind the witch’s body, shaking with power as they pulsed Deaton to the other side of the room. His bottle of poison skittered to the floor, and Stiles, or Cairn, or both of them picked it up.

They grabbed a handful of ash and threw it over the doorway, setting it as a shimmering barrier against the wolves. It was mostly done as an afterthought, but it gave them more time to deal with Morrell.

_I want her magick._ Cairn hissed, and Stiles faltered at the idea. He tried to shake his head in response, but Cairn had a surprisingly tight hold over his body. Morrell, as they whirled to face her, had strewn about her own line of mountain ash, a thin sheen of fear covering her features.

“You actually think that’ll keep me out?” Cairn lilted with his voice, the combination unnatural to Stiles’ ears. Morrell’s lips thinned before she tried to speak.

Cairn didn’t exactly give her the chance.

He pressed their bleeding hand over the barrier, and Stiles screamed inside his mind as the barrier burned him. Cairn, ignoring the pain, smeared the blood in patterns over the edge, in nonsensical movements to Stiles’ eye. The mountain ash, in response, blew away with like sand in a desert.

Morrell got up, trying to fight her way out, but as she made the attempt to attack, Cairn snorted and danced around it, grabbing her hair and slamming it into the nearest table. As she bled, he pressed their blood soaked hand over her wound.

Stiles could feel Cairn ripping her apart from the inside, and now he felt they had gone too far.

_STOP IT!_ He shouted, finding himself unheard and put away. Cairn clawed his way spiritually through her heart, her mind, ripping out every spark and flame he found that gave her that connection to nature. She shrieked in pain as she lost her anchors, and Stiles panicked as he tried to throw himself back into control. When he slammed hard enough, Cairn was almost finished with her.

When Cairn finally listened, he was at the brink of swallowing her spirit. They could almost see it, that strange essence wavering from her mouth, her eyes. Cairn looked at it, and Stiles could feel the demon’s desire for it. He had never thought the name demon would ever fit the spirit so well.

“Stiles.” Deaton’s voice came, sharp and clear. Cairn’s defenses went back up, but he quickly withdrew to the farther parts of Stiles’ body. The witch was back in control.

“I…” he gasped, looking back down at her. She was on the brink of awareness, barely noticing what was transpiring around her. The wolves were crowded at the edges of the doorways, mountain ash from Morrell’s circle heeding Cairns call to block the room. Deaton raised his hands, empty.

“Please… stop this.”

“You... you didn’t stop when I asked.” Stiles breathed out, and he was hyper aware of everything going on in the room. Morrell’s strange breathing, distracting as the spirit bubbled at its edge. The thick layer of sweat coming off of him, his body burning from the amount of energy that had been exchanged within it. Cairn was trying to escape his body desperately, and finding himself unable to shrank to the deepest recesses he could find. When Deaton spoke again, he did so with apology in his voice… and a step closer.

“I know, and I am truly sorry.” He said, and Cairn lurched forward as he felt it.

“Lie.” Stiles choked out. Deaton paused. His eyes weren’t very sympathetic anymore.

“Yes. I am sorry you had to go through that much pain, but we needed to do it. Stiles, you shouldn’t be able to do what you just did. It takes incredible power to break out of a reinforced mountain ash barrier.” Deaton looked down at his sister. “And to pull the magick right out of someone’s spirit.”

“She hurt me. She tried to kill me.” He shook his head again, tightening his grip. Her spirit bubbled up more, waving as it flowed over her chin a little. Deaton took another step forward, and Stiles balked at it, stepping back.

“Now, now. Easy.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We weren’t going to kill you.”

“How was I supposed to know? Everything has been trying to kill me, my friends, my family, everyone I ever even really had a good thought about. Why should I allow you to, what, test me? Why should I treat it as anything other than a threat on my life?” his laugh was hollow as Cairn started to pull himself out of the witch. It hurt, and Stiles winced, but it was more manageable than what the druids had been doing.

“We attacked you, and we know the consequences. We did not expect things to go this wrong. We’re sorry.” He said, and his voice was calm and steady, and Stiles kind of started to hate that, too.

“Don’t…” he paused, looking down at her. He bit his lip as he shook his head, bitterness on his tongue. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He scooped her essence into his bloodied hand, shoving it back into her with everything he had. He wasn’t going to latch every anchor back, but she’d recover after a few weeks. As her body gained control again, he put his hand back on her forehead, wincing at the spark and hissing out words that Cairn supplied. When Deaton looked alarmed at that he snorted in disgust.

“Reassurance. Now she’ll have trouble using magick against me.” He helped her to get somewhat steady on her feet and handed her off to him. “Fuck this, I’m out.”

He started to walk out the doorway only to find the wolves all piling into the room, and Talia’s husband, Phillip, stood in his way.

“I don’t have patience for this.” He muttered, looking up at the man with irritated eyes. Phillip looked up to his wife, and Stiles followed suit. “What? What could you possibly want now?”

“We have a pack meeting, Stiles. You are expected to attend.” She said shortly, her own eyes narrowed, but not glowing. He gestured around him.

“This not enough of a meeting for you?” She looked mildly uncomfortable, but her mind was already set.

“It did not occur the way we had thought it would, but the issue has been resolved. You are who you say you are. Correct?” she addressed Deaton. The druid, holding onto his sister, nodded. “We are sorry you are hurt, and will of course offer aide-,”

“Oh my god, you don’t see anything wrong with what just happened?” he asked incredulously. “You really, honest to god, do _not_ understand what just happened here?”

“Your anger is understandable, though exaggerated-,” She started, and Stiles twitched before yelling.

“My anger is understandable? Yeah, I’m pissed! I came here thinking I’d be with people I could trust over anyone else on this plane, thinking we’d be able to talk about what was going on and maybe bond.” He gestured around the broken living room, the wary wolves, the broken woman in Deaton’s arms. “You shackled me, tortured me, and expected what? Me to go ‘Ding Ding, you win, I’m actually who I say I am’? Fuck that, no way, so sorry, good bye.”

He turned around and bumped into Derek, who stood there obstinately, looking really confused and-

“Oh my GOD, MOVE!” he yelled, and the room’s lights flickered above. Derek’s eyes tightened a bit, and Stiles whirled around to face the alpha.

“Talia?” Stiles breathed out shakily, grabbing a small glass vase. “Is this important?”

“No.” she said after a moment. “Why?”

“Catch.” He said, tossing it to her. She caught it easily, looking up at him with caution.

“Now… I want you to throw that, as hard as you can, against the floor. Or the wall. Whatever works for you.” He said. She paused, obviously confused. He sighed and made a ‘get along with it’ gesture. “Just do it, please.”

She did so, slamming it against the corner, looking back at him expectantly. He gestured towards it.

“Pick a few shards up, if you will.” She did so, and everyone watched with tension as she held them gingerly. “Good. Now… apologize to those shards.”

“Excuse me?” she snorted, looking up at him. He fixed her with a dead serious look.

“You heard me.” He crossed his arms, and the tension in the room heightened.

“…” she remained silent for a second, her eyes finally glowing red. When she spoke, it was with a slight lisp of fangs. “I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now… what happened?” he asked, pointing to the shards. She looked down at them, observing them carefully. She approached it like he must have done something to them, but after a moment she gave up.

“Nothing.”

“Exactly. Do you understand?” he questioned, walking forward and taking the shards from her hand carefully. Her eyes contorted in confusion before they settled on annoyed.

“Stiles-,”

“No! Do you understand? I don’t want to hear how melodramatic it is. I don’t want to hear how my point was made. I want you to acknowledge the point. I want you to be aware of how serious this is to me Talia, because I swear to whatever god will listen, I refuse to be used. I refuse to be treated as property, and I don’t take this kind of bullshit without it staying in my memory.” He paused, letting the pieces drop and shatter more on the floor. “You broke my trust, and I find you unfit to be my alpha.”

Everyone made a quick intake of breath as Talia’s eyes widened, glowing red at the insult yet wide with some sort of guilt. She stepped forward, crushing the glass, and Stiles gave a humorless chortle at the irony.

“I’m finished here. I’m only going to warn you as a courtesy; my house will be surrounded in wolfsbane. I have wards set up that I will strengthen.” He picked up his bag from the corner where it must have dropped. “I really don’t want to talk with any of you, and if I see you near my property, you’ll find yourself hexed. If something worse than you lot is coming to town, call. If it isn’t dire emergency, I will hang up and ignore any other attempts.”

He went to the doorway, Cairn staying sullen and quiet to his mind. Deaton nodded his head as the witch passed, and Stiles nodded back. At least someone understood a boundary had been crossed.

“Stiles.” Talia called out, walking forward. Stiles looked back, stone faced and glaring.

“Save it. I’ve had enough for the day.” He said with conviction. Cairn tried to soothe him, but Stiles struck back a bit. “Later. I’ll be picking flowers on my way home.”

He walked out of the house, leaving everyone else inside stunned.

Morrell, dazed but coherent, chuckled softly, causing everyone to glance her way.

“We had advised you against this.” She giggled, leaning into Deaton’s side. “But even we didn’t see that coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LithaLeap and I have been through a tough semester. I wrote a one shot to quickly quell the need to react to the finale of season 3, but i had to delay this story so my grades wouldn't be in jeopardy.  
> Already working on the next chapter, and always open to hearing your thoughts! Thank you all, and I hope you have a marvelous start to the summer!!


	5. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles.” Talia said, nodding to him. “Please, come in.”  
> “Yeah, I’d prefer to stay out here, thanks.” He said warily. Talia’s eyes narrowed.  
> “You believe me to be tricking you?”  
> “Again? Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers, I hope.

“Are those-,” he looked closer, sniffing the air and recoiling. “He really laced his _entire_ home with wolfsbane?”

“That he did.” Peter said dryly. He and Derek were uphill, trying to stay out of sight of the witch’s home. Derek had been hoping to deliver a letter, but…

“I can’t get near that house.” He said, awed and ever so slightly frustrated. “If I even step on that lawn, I’ll be down before I get to the door.”

“Where did he find that much wolfsbane?” Peter pondered, face contorted in speculation. “He can’t have gotten it naturally. That’s enough to fill an entire field.”

“Isn’t it lethal to humans, too?” Derek asked, the hairs on his neck bristling. He really didn’t like the idea of Stiles being in a toxic environment. Peter nodded thoughtfully before shaking his head.

“Stiles isn’t just smart, he’s clever. He looks up every angle on something he uses. Those books he requested had more detail on wards and bindings than any of the other books in the library. He could have done with those books, but he already knew which ones he needed.” Peter shook his head. “It would be simple to set up a ward on him and his father against aconite poisoning, anyways.”

Derek nodded in relief, looking back at the house. The wolves tensed as the sheriff came home, with Stiles in the passenger seat. As they got out of the car, bags of diner food in their hands, Derek and Peter felt a little spark at their feet. Stiles, in the process of shoving curly fries down his throat, froze and whirled around, searching.

They ducked down and Peter laughed.

“Of course, he set up alarms… tricky kid. I see why you like him.” Peter slid a look over at his nephew, and Derek blushed deeply before hitting his uncle in the arm.

“You like him, too. Shut up, he’ll hear us.” He hissed. Peter raised a sardonic brow and chuckled.

“How? You seem to forget he isn’t a werewolf. Witches don’t have heightened senses, not in that way.” He said casually. A shaking sound near their head startled both of them, causing them to scramble up. Stiles stood there, bag of food in his left hand, with a red sachet in his right.

“True, but we can make charms to borrow those heightened senses.” Stiles smiled wide, shaking his wrist at them. Hemp, mixed with wolfsbane and mistletoe. Peter smiled and nodded.

“Impressive.” He remarked, and Stiles stopped smiling.

“You’re trespassing.” He glanced at Derek. “What do you want?”

“We came to talk about what happened.” Derek said slowly, looking to Peter. His uncle snorted and held up his hands.

“We came to beg mercy, basically. Also, to talk about the spell they used against you.” Peter brought out a paper from his back pocket, offering it to the witch. Stiles glanced at it warily before snatching it up and opening it. He read the ingredients and the procedure of the spell. When he was done, he looked confused and a little lost.

“When they said that wasn’t supposed to happen…”

“It wasn’t even conceivable. Your reaction was neither possessed nor whole.” Peter pointed to the ingredients. “Nightshade on the ash was supposed to reveal marks, symbols, anything marking you possessed. A large headache was a symptom, yes, but not the kind you had. We could see it affecting your whole body.”

“Mother was shaken after you broke the barrier.” Derek continued, holding up a vial of the spelled ash. “This? It’s a simple tool that shouldn’t have done anything if you were fine.”

“Deaton came to the conclusion that the spell didn’t take something important into account. You may be Stiles, but you’re in another body. A body not original to you. The spell was a conflict.” Peter frowned. “The nightshade and mistletoe, along with the mountain ash, drove you to a breaking point. The spell was faulty.”

“Okay… well, it’s nice to know you didn’t think it would kill me.” Stiles said sourly. Peter sighed.

“We know it’s not enough, and we know that you’re still upset. We just needed you to know that it wasn’t our intention at all. Talia also sent a formal apology, which you’ll probably set on fire, but that’s expected.” Peter shrugged. “My sister is too full of pride. Wonderful woman, but… well.”

“Yeah.” Stiles deadpanned, looking at the paper. After a moment of silence, Derek coughed and offered the letter. Stiles looked at it and laughed sarcastically. “Haha, no. If she wants to issue a formal apology, she can come down here herself and give it.”

“We were afraid you’d kill her, unfortunately.” Peter said with a pained look. Stiles laughed again, this time as if it was a joke. When Peter kept the look, though, Stiles eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Dude, no, I don’t kill people just like that. I don’t kill people. Like, at all. Never.” He looked between the two, who looked uncomfortable and shifted around. “You can’t really think I’d do that?”

“Stiles, you started to suck the soul out of Morrell. Forgive us if we’re a bit skeptical.” Peter said with a little snark. Stiles held up a finger to that.

“No, I was ripping the magick out of her. She would have been completely intact after… a few weeks.” He trailed off. “Ok, it was bad. I get it. But I didn’t want to do it.”

“You looked like you wanted to.” Peter said. He held up his hands at Stiles’ protest, shaking his head. “But that is neither here nor there. Point being, we’re sorry, and we hope you can forgive my sister’s stupid mistake.”

Derek handed Stiles the letter, which he actually took, and backed away. Derek took a moment to look at Stiles as the boy was lost in thought.

His hair had grown out significantly in the two weeks since the confrontation. He seemed just as thin, which wasn’t surprising, if still disturbing. His hand seemed to be doing better, with no scarring or complications. He held himself almost conservatively, like he was holding back how he really felt. His teeth bit down on his lip in a ridiculously awkward way, but Derek found it entirely too endearing. His lashes, unusually long for a classic male, fanned over whiskey brown eyes.

Derek’s heart was beating too fast to be normal.

“I need more time to think.” The boy warned. Derek nodded quickly.

“Of course. All the time you need.” Peter rolled his eyes at that and backed away.

“Yes, yes, of course. Well… let us know your answer when it comes. Should you have it before Halloween, we’d love to have you over the night after for dinner.” He looked to Derek and gestured for them to leave. “Let’s go. Stiles needs to think and not hex us.”

“Good thinking!” He called out as they left, heading back towards the house.

Derek shifted as his heart returned to its normal pattern, already missing the feeling with a dull ache.

~.*.~

It had been two weeks without any contact before the two wolves had come over with an apology. Stiles threw the letter onto his bed with anger.

The first thing he had done upon leaving the Hale house was to go to the edge of the woods and find some wolfsbane. He knew where it had grown in the previous world, and was relieved when he found several clumps in the wild flowers there. He picked as many as he could fit in his back pack, and then left to go home to take care of his hand.

Cairn had been very quiet the entire walk home, and Stiles preferred it that way. He had nothing to say to the demon then anyways.

He got home, relieved his father wouldn’t be there to roast him on his injuries. He found several bruises and burns on his body, probably due to the amount of energy he expended, and his hand had unexplainable tears in the skin. Not cuts, not slashes, but tears. Cairn had briefly tried to explain that hitting the barrier with his fist caused energy displacement and that resulted in tearing, but Stiles decided to withhold his response.

He patched himself up, cursing that he hadn’t mixed any healing salves earlier. He had been lazy, hoping he wouldn’t need any too soon. He made due with soaking it in tea made from his dried herbs.

He should have known better.

He placed wolfsbane all over his room first, then the entryway and the back door. He hid them where ever he could, places they would dry and continue to affect any wolves coming near. He knew that the flower shop in town sold a subspecies of aconite that would cause less lethal but more intense reactions in werewolves, and he fully planned to by all he could. He briefly considered planting his own, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to commit that much into it yet.

His father noticed his hand upon coming home, but Stiles played it off as extremely dry skin reacting to something in chem lab. His father, though concerned and offering to take him to the doctor, didn’t even notice the lie. It made him a little sad that it was that easy, and he winced as he made more tea to soak it in.

When he came back to school the next day, a tension had arisen between him and Cora. Cora actually looked sad and a little guilty, and that was fine by Stiles. He ignored her attempts to get him alone to talk, and he refused to sit at that table the next day. Jackson had made a quip about beating the shit out of him, and Cora had viciously torn it down, but the popular kids noticed an issue had come up between the loser and the wolf.

Harris had no mercy.

The next class period with him had been unnecessarily difficult. He held his tongue and looked down, aware that Cairn came forward to comfort him lightly until Harris left.

Danny wouldn’t stop giving him curious glances and half smiles in the hallway, and it unnerved him. Jackson had gotten to getting loud whenever he passed the witch, and it got in Stiles nerves and mind. If he was loud now, he’d get aggressive later. Lydia, of course, ignored his existence.

Scott stood by him faithfully, but, well… he couldn’t confide in his best friend anymore. There was too much to tell, and not enough time to let Scott get used to the idea of the supernatural. Heaven forbid he decided to tell his mother or Stiles’ dad.

“Son, you’ve been quiet the entire time you’ve been shoving your face. What’s wrong?” His father asked, giving him one of those frank looks when he glanced up quickly. He hadn’t realized he had been thinking to himself for so long. He forced a smile and shrugged.

“Just thinking about school.” Not entirely untrue… though stretched. His father nodded, though, so he felt it right. The man lifted his illegally gotten meat {alright, he bought everything, but it’s the principal of the act} and took a large bite.

“Harris still giving you trouble?”

“I’m handling that. He can’t fail me if I’m doing better than everyone but Lydia in his class.” He paused. “Actually, I’ve aced the past few pop quizzes. Probably matching her at this point.”

“I noticed you don’t talk much about her anymore.” His father commented with an innocent expression on his face as he chewed and let loose a pleasant sigh. Stiles pointed a curly fry at him, a dark look shooting over the table.

“I’m feeding you nothing but spinach and bean sprouts wrapped in hummus for the next month.” He took more fries and shoved them in his mouth. His father, though, was nonplussed.

“I just noticed you haven’t been talking about her much, and was wondering why.”

“I… I know I could have had a chance with her. I just didn’t play my cards early enough. Besides, despite what a terrible mistake I think it all is,” he paused, clearing his throat. “She’s happy with Jackson. Well, as happy as anyone can be when they’re dating Jackson and his ego.”

“Ah. So you’ve moved on?” He asked the wall, looking around before settling his eyes openly on his son. “To Cora?”

Stiles actually gagged at that, reaching for his coke as he made noises and shook his head violently. When he got his act together, he made twitchy gestures with his hands and shook his head some more.

“No. No, no, noooo. Never in a million lifetimes. She could kill me with her bare c- fists.” He caught himself, snorting. “But seriously, she’s just a good friend.”

“Huh. Well, I wouldn’t be opposed. She’s a good kid. The Hales are very well respected.” He eyed his the witch again, frowning slightly. “You sure you’re alright?”

Stiles sighed and got up to clear the trash and dishes. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. Just a lot of little things. Don’t worry about me. Besides, you’re the one that looks like hell. What’s going on with your case?”

The sheriff sighed again, leaning back and slumping a little. “Nothing useful. There have been a string of robberies all over the city, and some small home invasions we think are connected. We have no real clues other than some trace elements left behind at the scene of the crime. There have been signs of struggle, however. In each area, there’s this… ah, there’s no other way to describe it. Just a little patch of blood.”

Stiles’ neck hairs stood on end as his breathing quickened. He tried to speak several times, his back turned, and when he finally got to it, Cairn was _very_ present in the room.

_Please don’t be manganese and copper._

“What were the elements?”

“Oh, ah, just some oxides. We think the suspect works with either industrial strength bonding agents or in some type of ceramic field. Manganese, cobalt, some copper.” Stiles turned to look at his dad with a carefully blank face. “It was left in little puffs, probably coming off his clothes. He never leaves any prints, or scuffs.”

“That’s unusual, though. If he’s leaving blood and materials behind, there should be some indicator.” His dad shrugged and got up.

“We’ll have to keep looking into it. Speaking of, back to the office for me, kiddo. We’re a little tight at the station, and I need to look over the facts again.” Stiles nodded as his father turned to leave. “You going anywhere tonight?”

“Might go over to Scott’s.” He supplied, and his dad smiled.

“You do that. See you tomorrow!”

The moment the front door closed, he ran quickly and flailing up the stairs. When he got to his room, he turned the elegant mirror around to face the room again. He had made sure most highly reflective objects were covered so he wouldn’t have to actually talk with Cairn after the possession.

Cairn looked back at him, eyes dark and honestly looking like hell. His skin was pale, and his hair was no longer the careful mess it had been. He almost looked dirty.

“ _You’re not mad at me anymore?_ ” He asked, voice a little broken and eyes round and glistening. Stiles looked at him sharply and snorted.

“Are you actually upset, or do demons even feel emotion?”

“ _I don’t feel emotion the same way you do. It comes off similarly, but the feeling is an echo. It’s more of a memory of the feeling that comes forth now._ ” Cairn frowned, looking down low and fiddling with his feet. He wasn’t touching Stiles, which was odd for him.

“Fine, fine, just… don’t do it again. I don’t like it one bit, surprise surprise! We’ve got bigger issues.” He took one of the books he had borrowed, flipping through the pages. “What supernatural thing has come to town this time? The blood offerings are giving me the creeps.”

“ _You recognized those, then. Very good._ ” Cairn adopted a focused look as he came to hug onto Stiles arm, sitting down in the reflection. Stiles was getting used to moving with the boy in the reflections, and he sat down without thinking.

“Manganese and copper? You sounded worried. Why did you sound worried? Cairn, need some answers here, buddy.” He said frantically while flipping through the pages. Cairn frowned and reached out, holding Stiles’ hands still and forcing him to look. When Stiles’ realized that he could physically feel Cairns hands, he looked wildly around the actual room. “How are you doing that?”

“ _I… well, I picked up a few tricks from my time in your body. I’m sorry. It takes a lot of energy from me to manipulate physical matter, but… I can._ ” He held Stiles’ hands for a moment longer, obvious strain on his face. He sighed happily before letting go, though, and looked up. “ _I hope you don’t mind…._ ”

“No. Just, like, really unexpected.” There was a beat of silence as they stared into the mirror and looked back down. “Um, well, the thing? What made you think they’d find those elements?”

“ _There are several elements that come off of certain creatures, depending on origin and whether they’re created by someone or naturally occurring. What set me off into thinking the creature was made was the visible offering. If he had said trace elements of sulfur, as cliché as it is, I would have been relieved. Demons are normally easy to banish back to their plane if they do not merge with an object._

“ _However, the blood offering was set on the ground. Just a small amount, but enough to warrant that it needed a connection to the land. Copper, Manganese, Cobalt? Those are all elements you would add to a creature to make it more powerful at night, to let it conduct energy, and to inscribe it. In other words, a golem._ ” Cairn leaned down and blew on the pages, watching them fly before they settled near the end of the book.

Symbols to anoint your golem.

“I thought all you needed was a bit of dirt and the word to active it?” Stiles pondered as he read on. Cairn shook his head.

“ _Though the term golem was originally designed for that myth, the actual practice of creating them has been around in several cultures since the beginning of practical magick. Some made them purely from the elements, like fire and water. Some made dolls out of clay to come alive and serve. Others used manifestations of spirits to control armor with no one inside. All of them classify under the name Golem, though they each have their own individual names._ ” Cairn nodded down towards diagrams and symbols polluting the corner of a page. “ _We need to find it. So far, the puppeteer has been content to steal. There’s no telling what he may do… or when the golem will break free._ ”

“You say that as if it’s inevitable.”

“ _It is. The issue with any golem is that, as they continue to exist without having their energy return to the earth, they become ill. The energy percolates and turns into emotion. Being unable to handle the emotion, the golem turns on everything around it, sending out bits of energy to cool down its temporary spirit. They always crumble on their own… the question is just how many lives and how much damage to the world will satisfy them before they go?_ ” Cairn got up and touched the mirror. “ _You need to talk to Talia. This is something she needs to be made aware of, as the protector of the area. I guarantee she has never encountered one of these._ ”

Stiles sighed heavily as he looked back down at the book. “You sure I can’t handle this on my own?”

“ _Would you like to have your skull crushed by some choice rocks and pebbles?_ ” Cairn asked sweetly.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.” Derek greeted. Stiles grunted with a nod, shutting the door and buckling his seat belt. Derek was looking at him oddly, and he looked up and snapped.

“What?”

“You said it was urgent. What’s going on?” Derek frowned. Ah, the look had been concern. He wasn’t used to that look without that customary frown in place.

“I’ll tell you all when we get there. Don’t give me that look, there’s no point in repeating myself a million times.” He snapped a little. When Derek looked taken aback before shutting down, Stiles winced inwardly. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little pissed to be back doing this. I really don’t want all my suddenly mortal friends to get killed here, too.”

“That’s understandable, I guess.” Derek muttered, driving off. It was a silent and extremely uncomfortable drive to the Hale residence, and Stiles didn’t know what to say to the man.

What do you say? He hadn’t figured out his feelings entirely for Derek from the other plane. They had been close as comrades and friends by the end, and there was no getting around how tactile the werewolf had been with him… and only him. Never showing dedicated interest in whatever the others were doing. Letting him stay the night, pass out on the bed from reading over old texts. Constantly taking him to the diner to get him to eat because, let’s be honest, he was on the fast track to anorexia with how many meals he skipped and how little he just didn’t want to eat. After a particularly tough battle or mystery, they would lay exhausted in the wolf’s empty, ruined home, just breathing and existing in each other’s space. Happy to be alive.

In a way, it would seem that they had already been together. Maybe in a non-romantic and non-sexual way, but they were too close to be simple friends or allies.

What bothered him most was the end to his previous life. Derek’s confession before he died had shaken him to the core. It was almost as if it wasn’t Stiles’ mother who had wanted to save him, but that Derek had made it his wish with his last breath. He had said that maybe, in another life, another place or time that he wouldn’t be so proud. Stiles looked over to this Derek, chest heavy as he observed. This Derek didn’t seem too proud to listen.

He was conflicted about what to do here.

This Derek seemed to treat him like an old friend, but then, most in the pack here did so because he smelled like pack from the beginning. It was so different here, and he had no idea how to handle it. It was innocent here, in comparison. The darkness still weighed on him, but it didn’t weigh on the others. They never had to live through it.

He glanced at the side mirror on the van, watching as Cairn gave him the softest smile.

_“He would have wanted you to be happy.”_

Stiles couldn’t help the tears that dripped down his face at that, and he sniffed once before the car swerved to the side of the trail. They had arrived in the forest, but they weren’t near the house yet. He glanced over at Derek, wiping at his eyes. Derek looked concerned and protective, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for Stiles hand. When Stiles didn’t resist, the wolf unbuckled him and literally dragged him across the divider and into his lap. He was surrounded by familiar warmth, and that was the last straw to his pent up emotions.

Stiles let loose a flood, which he hated, but had no way of stopping. He cried as Derek cradled him in his arms, rocking him back and forth. After a few moments, Derek reached up to brush Stiles’ shaggy hair, and that touch, that automatic reaction to his stress… well, it really hit home.

This was _Derek_.

After a little while, he started to calm down more, and yeah, he dug his face into the man’s chest because _come on_ , of course he had to. Derek spoke up, the sound reverberating through his chest and deepening.

“I don’t know what it is, but I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this, you don’t have to go over there.” Stiles looked up and Derek looked solemn, still concerned. “I’ll relay whatever you need, and you don’t have to speak with my mother if you don’t want to. I’ll take you home right now, if you want me to.”

“It wasn’t that, I was just… I just got caught up in some old memories. I didn’t meant to freak you out.” He made to get off, but Derek actually resisted, a pained look on his face.

“I… alright. I don’t want to pry.” He gave one last squeeze before transferring him back to his seat, reaching behind and gently squeezing the scruff of his neck. “If you need to talk, I am here for you. We all are. We don’t know what happened, and we’re deeply regret the pain and fear it caused you.”

“I know.” Stiles smiled bleakly. “Still a little pissed at your mom, but we’ll have to work together to get past the new threat.”

Derek nodded and reached over to buckle the witch back up, leaning in and inhaling deeply in a way that was _very_ noticeable. When he retreated, he looked contented. Almost blissed. Stiles didn’t really know what to make of that. When he put the car back into drive, he subtly left his hand on Stiles’, running his thumb up and down in soothing patterns.

Stiles wouldn’t admit it, but he was ecstatic.

They arrived at the Hale household, with Talia and Peter waiting on the porch. As the pair got out of the car, Peter and Talia suddenly smiled. Derek muttered something under his breath as they got up, and Stiles didn’t know what to the make of that either as they came face to face.

“Stiles.” Talia said, nodding to him. “Please, come in.”

“Yeah, I’d prefer to stay out here, thanks.” He said warily. Talia’s eyes narrowed.

“You believe me to be tricking you?”

“Again? Yes.” Stiles stood there, frowning a little at the woman. Talia sighed and held her forehead as if she had a headache.

“Stiles, I cannot apologize enough for what happened. I sent Peter and Derek over to explain-,” she said, but Stiles cut her off.

“You should have come yourself. That’s not why I'm here, though.” Stiles bristled, and Derek touched his arm.

“There’s nothing going on inside, and it feels like it will rain soon.” Stiles harrumphed and looked up as a single drop of water hit his cheek. He flinched and flailed a bit.

“Fine! Fine. Inside!”

Derek guided him in, heading towards the living room. Stiles was hyperaware of his surroundings, and Cairn was floating around, looking for traps or wards. Granted, there was nothing there when they finally sat down on the couch, with Derek beside them, but… he wasn’t ready to forgive just yet.

 _I’m nervous here. I can’t feel anything, but… still_.

Stiles nodded to show his agreement, and looked around as people started to file into the room. The children filed in as well, with their parents coming after them. Damien and Ross stood by the doors, and their father took up a position by the chair Talia chose. Alessia walked in last, carrying a shawl and coming to sit by Stiles on the other side.

“Hello, Stiles, dear. How has your day been so far?” She asked, settling in and patting his knee. He smiled despite himself and shrugged.

“It could be better, could’ve been worse. Yours?”

She smiled and clasped her hands. “Oh, just a cold day for these old bones. My husband is resting upstairs.”

Stiles thought that odd, since werewolves couldn’t get sick, but he nodded and smiled back. “I hope he feels better soon.”

“As do I, dear, as do I. Now, it has come to our attention that there is a serious matter afoot?” She asked, and Talia smiled. Stiles paused before starting up.

“It came to my attention that I probably shouldn’t handle it myself, seeing as you are the guardian of the area. There’s something loose in the city. At crimes scenes near robberies, there have been traces of certain oxides, used in many fields for production. Near these traces, there have been carefully placed blood spatters. I believe these to be offerings, and the elements involved were manganese, copper, and cobalt. These traces, along with the blood, indicate that there may be a golem in the area. If there is a golem, there is a creator. If there is a creator, there’s no telling what he’s going to want to do.

“The robberies have been mostly home invasions, apartments, that kind of thing. I don’t know what was taken, and I haven’t seen any connections yet.” He stopped and looked to Talia. “Have you ever faced anything like this?”

“No. What kind of threat does it hold?” she asked, her posture settling out.

“The thing about a golem is that the energy keeping it ‘alive’, or active, is borrowed from the earth. As that energy collects and doesn’t return, it starts to kind of overheat. It becomes angry, violent, and won’t obey its creator. It sends out the energy in its body in bouts of destruction, which could cause, like, serious damage. I’m talking entire buildings could be razed. It will, eventually, crumble down. It’s just whether or not it will take someone with it when it does.” He paused. “The point, however, shouldn’t just be the golem. We need to find whoever made it. His intentions are unknown, and having a servant that powerful at your disposal is addictive. If he does it wrong, he’ll probably be killed by his creation. If he does it right, he’ll make several and destroy them before they grow violent. ”

“Alright.” She looked to Damien and Ross. “Boys, talk to the victims. Find out what was missing. Laura, go with them, but focus on scent. Cora, work with Peter in the library. Phillip, I’ll need you to look into these cases, find out anything you can about them. We’ll need copies, if you can manage it, darling. Lilian, could you possibly work with your children on seeing if they can find anything on the creator?”

“I believe so. If Phillip can find some of the elements, we can trace with that.” She smiled, and Peter wrapped his arm around her waist, kissing her forehead.

“Good. Derek, help Stiles with whatever he needs. I will keep a close eye on the department and attempt to be at the next crime scene. If the scent is fresh, I may be able to track him down.” She looked around at everyone, smiling calmly before settling her eyes back on Stiles. “Thank you for coming to us with this. We were unaware that there was something amiss.”

“It was right.” Stiles shrugged. “I might need to use your library on this, if that’s alright.”

“Of course. You can use those sources any time you wish to. Is there anything you’ll need from us?” She asked, and Cairn’s interest was piqued.

 _Yes. Take advantage of this, magick is expensive._ He hissed. Stiles wait for info, and Cairn sighed before rattling off a list.

“If you have access to it, I need materials I’m unsure of how to get here. If you have small lumps of silver, a granite slab, and quartz crystals.” He paused. “Also, acidic wash kit, for printmaking. I need to be able to mark on the slab, dissolve the markings, and inlay them with silver. It’ll make it possible for me to control the golem, if we find it.”

“Alright. We’ll have Peter order the materials.” She paused before she looked down. “Stiles, I apologize for my decision to have Deaton and Morrell cast that spell on you. It was misinformed, and it put you in danger. It was a mistake, and I take full responsibility for it.”

 _Um, well then. Sudden apology straight to our faces. How grown up of her_.

“I… well.” Stiles blinked. He hadn’t expected her to actually apologize. He thought she’d be a subtly different version of Derek as an alpha. “I accept your apology.”

She nodded, getting up and smiling. “Everyone, you have your assignments. Children, remember to do your homework. School comes first; we’ll handle your tasks while you finish that. Stiles, would you like to stay here and research this evening?”

Stiles nodded with a pleased, if partially stunned from earlier. She smiled gracefully, and Alessia got up with her, smiling along the way. She patted Stiles arm and smiled, eyes twinkling as she departed for the kitchen. Everyone moved on to their tasks or work, and Stiles just kind of sat there, unsure of what to do. Derek touched his hand and he looked up into warm, tentative eyes.

“Do you want to go to the library?” He asked, getting up and pulling Stiles along with him. The wolf’s hand was warm around his, and Stiles felt himself get up without a thought at it. When Derek led him up the stairs, he could feel a pair of eyes on him. He looked down, just in time to see Alessia gazing back. She winked, and disappeared from his sight as they ascended.

The library had been impressive at a glance, but it was so much more when he finally came in. Peter and Cora were already pulling books off the shelf, nodding as the witch approached. Stiles could see books on herbalism, necromancy, druidic practices, tattoos, hexes, something on every intriguing topic he could think of in here. The books being pulled from the shelves involved the creation of creatures, earth elements and their effects, manipulation, and so on.

His heart rate was rising with how absolutely in love with this collection he was.

Derek raised a brow before smiling. “Why so excited?”

“This is a knowledge guru’s wet dream, man. Holy shit, I’m going to marry your library. We’re going to make little homunculi children and be together until the end of my years. Then, when I’m gone, I’m gonna come back and marry her again, you know, soul mate recognizing soul collection. Endless cycle, John Green would be proud, they’ll write novels about us. Oh yes they will!” he exclaimed as he stroked the shelves, climbing the ladder attached to a wall of shelves. Cora snorted as the men in the room chuckled. Stiles pursed his lips. “Don’t listen to them, sweetheart. Their jealous of the love we’ll share.”

“As soon as your done with your… whatever you’re doing to our book shelves, we have some sources for you to browse through. Don’t put anything back, though. Lilian will put them back where they belong when we finish with them.” Peter drawled, opening a book himself. “I have never read up on golems before. I don’t like being ignorant of relevant situations, so if I find something worthwhile, I will share.”

“Cool. And I need my adderol, cuz this looks like a night waiting to last.” He climbed down the ladder, perusing the piles of books, picking one out at random. He sat down in one of the large, fat armchairs near the table, flipping through the pages with an eagle eye. Derek gave a little laugh, going to the doorway.

“If you need anything, let us know.” He said before leaving. The witch nodded absently.

Stiles poured over the books one after another, barely taking a break for his eyes inbetween. There was a lot of information to cover, even if most of it wasn’t related to the golem. It was all so intriguing, and he put down mental reminders to look into topics that were mentioned in the tomes. He absorbed it like a sponge, obsessing over the pages. After a few hours, he paused to go to the bathroom. He came back to find Alessia setting a large plate of cookies and a tray of mugs on the table. Outside, It was pouring rain and too dark to see.

“The weather has gotten particularly worse. Talia called your father to let him know we would keep you, though now she’s fretting because she forgot to ask your permission for that. I do hope that won’t be a problem?” She asked, arching a brow with amusement on her face. Stiles shook his head, diving for a cookie.

“Nope. You had me at cookies and books. Thank you, by the way.” He said through a mouthful. She laughed out loud, then, and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders closer.

“It was no trouble. Nights like this need some warmth. Do try not to stay up too late. And Lilian imparted that should you get the books stained, she will have your hide.” She winked. “Best to wipe your hands thoroughly.”

“Will do, ma’am.” He nodded, settling in a chair and sipping from one of the mugs. Some type of herbal tea, lavender and something sharp in it. Light taste of licorice?

 _Lavender and Anise, probably some black tea blend. Surprisingly more caffeine than most coffees sold in America, I believe._ Cairn supplied, and Stiles smiled to himself. The elderly wolf took a seat next to him, taking a mug for herself and sliding one to Peter. The man took it without looking away from the page, murmuring his thanks. Cora had left without the witch noticing.

“Derek has offered his room, if you wish to sleep there tonight.” She said loftily, and Stiles paused mid cookie.

“Um… where would he sleep?”

She looked amused as she answered, looking down at one of the open books in front of her. “Why, in the same room of course.”

“Of course.” He swallowed, his stomach tight and his fingers tapping against his mug. The woman smiled briefly at his response, though the expression faded to a wistful look.

“Thank you for forgiving my daughter.” She looked over to him, eyes solemn. “It was a grave error on her part, and she did not help herself the first few attempts she made trying to apologize. It was distressing to realize we didn’t know much about you, though we felt you were one of us from the beginning. There would have been better ways, as Peter had offered.”

“I offered several. My sister is difficult.” He said clearly as he continued reading. Alessia smiled sadly.

“Her first word was ‘No’, if that is any indicator. Peter’s was a distinct sentence.” She chuckled, sipping her mug as Peter looked up this time.

“I believe it went somewhere along the line of ‘You’re starting to annoy me, sissy’. Probably wouldn’t stop biting my leg when she was in her wolf form.” He said fondly. “Wasn’t Laura’s first word and expletive?”

“No, that would be Cora. Laura’s first word was ‘puppy’. Cora’s… well, in bad taste, but learned from Ross, most likely.” She sighed as everyone gave a small laugh and continued reading. After everyone had finished with their tea, she got up and collected the mugs. “I’ll leave you the cookies. Last one to leave the library, please take them downstairs and put them in the cookie jar.”

“Of course.” Peter murmured, closing a book and grabbing another. “Stiles, you may want to read that one. It has counter spells that can chip away at a golem’s armor. Many of them break the creature down faster, which will come in handy should we face it.”

“Good to know. Hey, what languages do you know?”

“What language are you needing?” Peter asked, and Stiles passed him the book he was holding. Peter scanned over it. “Ah, Italian. I hope you realize we are an Italian family by heritage. I’ll read it and translate anything relevant.”

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles awoke lazily to someone carrying him gently, cradled against a broad chest. There was a pause in footsteps before a door opened, and they went through before the door shut. Stiles groaned a little, burrowing his face into the warm shoulder before he was laid down on a bed. He felt the man take his shoes off, a pause before there was a hesitant dip in the space next to him. Stiles flung his arm out, latching onto the shirt and dragging it down to his level.

“Sleep. Hurry up.” He murmured, and a strangled chuckle came accompanied by strong arms. Stiles shuffled closer and dipped his head under one of the arms, settling into the side of the warm person. Aftershave and a light woodsy scent rushed up his nose, and of course he knew who it was.

Derek took a deep breath beneath him, and he found the strong, throbbing beat of the wolf’s heart soothing as the sound of rain battered the windows.

Stiles had no problem falling back asleep in the wolf’s arms, and Derek watched him contentedly as the witch drifted off. Cairn looked from the mirror at the edge of the room, blank and calculating As Derek himself finally succumbed to sleep, Cairn frowned.

 _Something about this doesn’t seem right._ He murmured, and the wind responded by beating a bigger sheet of rain against the house. He paused, glancing outside as a presence entered his awareness. He went to the window, looking out.

In the rain, facing the front of the house, was a shadowed figure with a hood, clothes undiscernible by the silver falling from the sky. Cairn glared out, crossing his arms and leaning against the sill.

 _I don’t know who you are, but you are unwelcome here._ He whispered, sending a chill through the rain towards the figure. The rain turned to ice as it neared the figure, but Cairn took notice that none of it seemed to make contact.

It was going through… whatever it was.

 _What’s fair is fair, little one._ A whisper flowed back to him. Cairn’s eyes widened as the figure faded down into the ground, and a handprint formed in an icy sheet on the window. He flinched back, phasing nearer to Stiles.

 _Don’t touch him._ Cairn warned. _He’s mine._

The ice melted after a few seconds, but the handprint stayed, just to show how well the spirit, if that indeed was what it was, could manipulate the physical realm. Cairn’s visage paled, and the handprint lifted slowly away, leaving an energy of amusement behind.

Cairn sang his lullaby until the wee hours of the morning, his voice growing hoarse.

No one would touch his witch. But he needed more power if he was to protect what was his.

He looked down on the nightstand to find a thin novel resting there, some light reading for Derek before bed. He stared at it, a thought in the back of his mind pushing him to reach out for it. When his hand passed around it, he sighed in frustration. He focused on it, focusing his anger that something would dare encroach on his territory, on _his_ Stiles.

The cover flipped open, and the first page with it.

He smiled as he drifted off towards the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I'm putting down from golem myth and origin is in pieces and adapted to fit an active magickal universe. 
> 
> I hope you had fun with Cairn's shenanigans, and enjoyed the chapter! I love to hear from you guys, and i think i addressed what i could out of the concerns. Lithaleap and i punched this one out, and I'm already working on the next one!
> 
> Thank you guys!  
> ~TD~


	6. On Golems and Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cairn laughed openly as Stiles squeaked.  
> “You frustrating, reckless, moronic witch.” He growled into Stiles’ neck, the words vibrating through his chest and into Stiles rhythm. The words, though harsh, had such a twist to them that Stiles could feel his pulse quickening, and blood rushed throughout his body.  
> That was a little embarrassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, this chapter kind of demands that I give it a maturity rating for some possibly slashy material?  
> Lithaleap, my beautiful/handsome beta has brought me great joy, and done so much for me!
> 
> And this goes to the birthday of a part of my inspiration for Cairn.  
> Happy Birthday, Ace!!

Cairn was unusually happy for the past few days.

After school, almost every day, Stiles would go to the Hale house and study in the library. Cora would occasionally help him, but she mainly stuck to her homework while in the room. Peter was in there often, translating some of the books in languages that Stiles did not recognize. Talia would check on if he needed anything, and her mother would bring in some type of beverage or snack often. Stiles had taken to falling asleep while with a book, and Derek would dutifully take him to his room and tuck him in.

Every morning he awoke there, he was tucked into Derek’s side, and he was warm and content. He would catch a ride with Cora, telling his dad he had a project with her due in two weeks. His dad, probably not believing it, decided that Stiles was spending the night there in hopes that Cora would take a liking to him.

Wrong Hale, kind-of-not-really-but-yes the right idea.

Cairn would greet him with an enthusiastic hello, and if he passed a mirror the demon would be on his back, snuggling his face into the witch’s neck. Cute as he found it, he was partially suspicious at this point. When confronted, Cairn would simply smile.

 _It’s a good day_.

Stiles had also been training his body to be able to withstand more than a gust of wind, and he was becoming pleased with the results. His limbs were already more wiry from the exercises he did every morning, and his healthier diet here got him to bulk up slightly. It helped that he ate a lot with the Hales, and they liked their protein and greens.

His father hadn’t reported any more robberies, which worried Stiles and the Hales. The creature had been steadily breaking into homes and taking things almost every day for the span of a month. Now that it had suddenly stopped, Talia expressed her concern while they were in the living that evening.

“I’m worried we may need to be looking for bodies now.” She said with a troubled expression. Stiles grimaced and shook his head.

“It’s really unlikely that it’s killed somebody without public notice.” He voiced. Talia just shook her head, and he paled. “You think the creator is bored with robberies.”

“It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. We’ll await his next move.” She looked. “He’s been taking silver and gold from families, and anything with cut gemstones. Does that hold significance?”

“Well, the precious metals makes sense. Those would be good conductors of magick, which he could use for pretty much anything he wants to do. The gemstones all have specific effects, and any practitioner could make use of them, especially if they’re good enough to make a golem. Earth magick and all that.” Stiles supplied. Talia nodded.

“Maybe he’s planning a large scale robbery? Perhaps from Beacon Hills National Bank? They have gold ingots and personal security boxes. He’ll have some way of knowing which ones will have what he’s looking for, if that is indeed what he wants.” She mentioned, and Peter looked up from his chair with a condescending sneer.

“His motives are unclear. Is he just greedy? Does he have a vendetta against the people he stole from? What does he want the valuables for? Is it just a cover, for him to pawn and buy what he actually wants? Too many questions, useless energy just guessing at this point. Let’s focus on finding the creature first.” He looked to Stiles. “Now, I read something about golem’s having a base level of understanding. They act like servants, understanding what their creator does. They have no thought of their own, but they mimic the ability to think from their maker. Does this mean we could break the golem free of its master’s will and potentially reason with it?”

 _No. Once broken from its master, it loses any and all reason. You could convince it to stop an action if it’s profoundly stupid. You can even convince it an action is best left undone if it’s intelligent and you have sound reasoning._ Cairn relayed. Stiles repeated that for the wolves’ benefit, and they took a few minutes to think. Cairn slowly hummed before making a remark. _Have we thought of setting up a trap yet?_

“What about a trap?” Stiles offered. Talia looked up expectantly.

“What did you have in mind?”

 _We might be able to call it forward by offering up some silver that’s been melted down with some nickel and peridot chips. It’s what some call baldur ore. Magical chunks meant to focus power and deflect magick._ Cairn said, sending him impressions of what it felt like, what it looked like. Stiles offered that up as a remark, and Peter raised a brow.

“I’ve never heard of it before.” He remarked with a frown. Stiles shrugged.

“Something someone from the other plane told me. It makes sense for someone who wants a servant to have it. If he infused his golem with it, it would be difficult to trap or harm with magick. We could call the creature here with it.” Stiles said. Talia gave a small frown of thought before looking to Peter.

“Do you have any better ideas, brother?” She asked. Peter shook his head and reached over to the side table. He reached inside a drawer and pulled out an IPad, putting a card reader into it.

“I’ll order the necessary materials. We have a few lumps of silver in the library upstairs, for archival purposes. I assume you’ll want a little smelter to go with the materials list?” Peter asked. At first, Stiles had thought he was being sarcastic. When Peter gestured for an answer, Stiles sputtered.

“You can just order a smelter like that?” He pondered. Peter snorted before throwing him an incredulous look.

“Stiles, you can’t be oblivious to the amount of money we have at pack disposal. All of us have had or have jobs, and we pool our resources. We all live in this home. The mortgage has long been paid off, since the time we were children. We also receive pack dues from surrounding packs that have pledged loyalty. Yes, we have the money to buy what you need.” He rolled his eyes as he clicked something on the tablet. “Did your alpha in the other world never use the money left to him? There had to be, as hard as it is to say, millions in life insurance alone.”

Stiles was silent at that, his mouth twisting slightly. “No, actually. He used Laura’s car that she probably bought with a little of it. He lived in the remains of the home. He eventually got an apartment, though he left that after the alpha incident. He bought food, occasionally offered some money for research we needed, but he never really used it.”

“That’s… a pity.” Talia murmured, folding her hands in her lap and casting her eyes down. Stiles nodded with a heavy lump in his throat. Peter sighed.

“Well, you don’t need to worry. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re pack, and you benefit from its privileges.” He shot at Stiles, pointing a finger. “If you need something, you let us know. We’ll help you acquire it.”

“I can’t exactly give anything back. I don’t have a job at the moment.” Stiles argued. Talia shook her head at that, looking to Stiles with an open face.

“You’re different. You’re inner pack, like family, but you are also a witch. This situation with the golem shows just how valuable of an asset you are. Also, don’t think we didn’t notice the heavy wards against fire and sabotage you placed all over the property. We haven’t seen any wolfsbane grow near here in a while, either.” She said pointedly. Stiles mouth went thin as he looked away. “Exactly. You do your part, Stiles. Let us help where we can.”

Stiles shrugged and nodded, making an excuse about research before heading up the stairs. Peter’s sigh floated up in his wake, and he couldn’t help the twitch of his fingers at the sound.

Cairn brushed against his awareness curiously, coming into view as Stiles entered Derek’s room. The wolf was working at a local garage, and wouldn’t be home til later. The afternoon sun shone through the room, and hit the mirror just right to give Cairn a glowing appearance. When Stiles went over to close the blinds, he returned to the mirror, finding Cairn facing it.

“ _What’s wrong?_ ” Cairn asked, eyes scrunched up as he regarded the witch. Stiles took a deep breath and shook his head. His fists were quivering, and he looked up into the demon’s eyes.

“I don’t know. I just… every time I think things are going well, I get reminded of everything I’ve lost. I know that no one good here is dead, but damn it, they did die in my world. They are gone, and I can’t forget that it happened.” He sat at the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.

He was overwhelmed for no reason other than the mention of his past. It had been several weeks since he’d gotten back, and that should have given him time to adjust. Yet here he was, pained and unable to stop thinking about the life he left behind. Cairn, sensing his troubles, gave a soft calling whistle. When Stiles looked up with tears on the brink of watering over, face stoic, Cairn was holding his arm, smiling softly.

“ _You didn’t lose them, Stiles. You got the chance to save them._ ” Cairn’s smile grew wider. “ _That’s why we’re here now. We’re here to save them, yes?_ ”

Save them. Stiles thoughts stopped racing as he focused on that idea. He had every intent of making sure everyone was safe, but his purpose here being to save them… he hadn’t thought of it that way before. He could save everyone, or at least know enough to try and stop their ends.

Erica wouldn’t have to die at the hands of some alpha pack. Boyd wouldn’t have to die at Derek’s claws. The Hale family already survived their most terrible ordeal. Laura didn’t have to be killed by Peter. Peter didn’t go crazy. Alison didn’t die, and Scott wouldn’t have to die to avenge her. Lydia wouldn’t be silenced for her talents as a banshee. Derek…

Cairn’s smile grew radiant as he saw the witch work through the idea. He rubbed Stiles arm, actually giving it the slightest amount of physical pressure.

“ _See? There’s always another perspective. Always some ray of hope._ ” Stiles smiled, looking into the demon’s eyes gratefully. The boy got up and laughed. “ _Good. No more sad day, okay? Let’s go to the library and do some research. I saw a book on crystals I want you to open up…._ ”

Stiles and Cairn walked out the hall and headed towards the library, Cairn chatting away about amethyst while Stiles nodded amicably. When they entered, the pair found Lilian and her daughter, Greta. Greta was brushing her mother’s hair, humming something softly underneath her breath. Lilian herself was sitting rigidly in a chair at the main table, sketching something with charcoal on grey paper.

When Greta noticed the pair, she held one hand to her lips. Stiles nodded in understanding as he felt the energy radiating off of the woman.

She was casting her sight out to see if she could find anything.

There seemed to be several drawings scattered around the table, some finished, some left half done. A few had bright colors added to them, and Stiles could tell Cynthia had been in here as well. Several stick drawings in the style of most common children rang out among the practiced hands of an artist. Cynthia’s sketches were breathtakingly realistic, and Stiles leaned down closely to examine one of them.

He blinked as he took in the detail of the drawing. It was his room, down to the lacrosse gear stacked exactly that way in the corner. He was standing in front of the mirror, and in the corner was-

 _Take the drawing._ Cairn whispered with alarm. _They can’t know about me, Stiles. Not yet._

He looked back to the wolf, who was focused on brushing her mother’s hair, before he rubbed his hands over the paper and concentrated. He was about to access the well of magick in his mind to make the paper disappear, before he looked back down to the markings. All the charcoal was done precisely… but loosely.

It wouldn’t take much to smudge it if it hadn’t been sprayed with fixative.

He took his pinky finger and quickly swiped it across the mirror, smoothing the charcoal into the edges. Now, it looked just like a gray surface.

 _I… hadn’t actually thought of that._ Cairn voiced, sounding a little disappointed. _I have to admit, I was looking forward to you using magick to make it disappear._

Stiles gave a bland smile as Lilian finished up her drawing. Her posture relaxed all of a sudden, and Cynthia placed the brush on the table before rubbing her mother’s shoulders. Lilian seemed surprised by this, and Cynthia gave a small smile at it.

“You looked unhappy, so I helped.” She looked over to the witch, nodding. “I’m going to go play with Laura.”

“Thank you, sweetness.” Lilian called after her, eyes soft as she wiped her brow and took a drink from a glass on the table. She addressed Stiles directly after a breather. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Oh, I was just coming up to do research.” He said politely, pointing to a pile. She gave a chuckle before shaking her head, patting the seat beside her.

“I meant for you. You seem troubled, especially when I see you through these.” She said as she looked over her drawings, picking a few out and sliding them over to him. They were all of him, and he felt a slight push of guilt as she also passed the altered one on.

Most were of him sitting alone, looking through a book or face down in his pillows, awake but unwilling to get up. This would all be a normal occurrence, if each and every one of the images didn’t have his face twisted in pain or sadness. He glanced up to the woman before averting his gaze, shrugging. She sighed.

“I can only draw a still frame of what I see, Stiles, as does my child. However, we see a full ‘clip’, so to speak, of the event. We see things as they unfold. Most of it is past with the occasional present. I have been fortunate enough to have precisely four visions of the future, which is an almost unspoken amount for any seer.” Stiles laughed and looked at her incredulously. She smiled knowingly at that. “I know, seems counter intuitive. We see a person’s past, and guide them in a future we can feel, like intuition. Rarely do we see actual events yet to happen.”

“What did you see?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. He could see Cairn in the reflection of her glass as she took a drink, and the demon was gazing at her intently.

“I saw myself meeting Peter in the local diner, waiting his table and receiving the tip I needed to get through the week. I saw him propose to me underneath the eaves of this very home. And I saw the birth of my daughters, all at once, including the one I’ll be having in a year.” She smiled. “A seer only ever sees the future of those involved or about to be involved in her life thread.”

“What about your fourth one?” he asked, and her face darkened.

“The fourth vision I saw was confusing. It has not been set, and there are several ways it can go. However, there are two prominent paths.” She looked at him, and then looked subtly to his left. Stiles turned, seeing no one, and opened his mouth to ask before Cairn gasped and recoiled into Stiles’ being, clinging to him tightly.

_She can see me._

“Either the pack wilts underneath a great threat… or we are saved by the compassion of a spirit.” She looked Stiles dead in the eyes and leaned forward, grasping his hand so tightly it almost hurt. “I don’t know how you met him, or why he chooses to follow you, but be careful. Spirits do not follow mortals for simple reasons. They are not always what they seem, not always themselves.”

“When is a spirit not itself?” Stiles asked, and the woman shuddered. Her eyes were hard and wary as she got up and let go of his hands, brushing the charcoal dust off of her clothes. She gathered her drawings, leaving the one with the smudged mirror behind as if to subtly tell him she knew. As she came to the doorway, she turned back to look at the pair, a bleak frown on her face.

“When the person they attach to turns down a darker path.” She looked down at her drawings before sighing. “You have chosen not to reveal him. I will respect that, so long as it doesn’t harm my family.”

With that, she left the room. Stiles frowned as he considered her words and the implications behind them. He could feel Cairn brush against his mind with anxiety and a little fear, but Stiles shook his head.

“She won’t tell them.” He comforted. Cairn bristled slightly in his awareness, and the paper on the table drifted to the floor, ending face down. Stiles would have said something at that, but the demon spoke up first.

 _I know she won’t. She just brought up a memory I don’t particularly cherish._ There was a pause as a book on a shelf to the far left slid partially out of its place, and Stiles went to it. When he picked it up, he found himself confused. It had nothing to do with golems, and everything to do with spirits.

“Why…?” he questioned, looking around for a mirror or reflective surface. He found a small mirror on display in a vanity cabinet, and when he got close, he could see Cairn’s face looking dejected.

 _“You need to be better prepared against spirits. I possessed you far too easily for my liking, and I’m not the strongest out there. I just came to realize, lately, how weak I really have gotten._ ” Cairn ghosted his fingers over Stiles’ shoulder, giving it a physical squeeze of comfort. “ _I’ll get better. I won’t let you lose yourself._ ”

Stiles’ mouth turned up at the corners briefly, but he felt a little tug somewhere down in his mind, something off center being pulled. He took the book to a chair and sat down, reading through it for the rest of the afternoon. When he got to an interesting point, Cairn would interject with supplemental information. If something was more theory then practice, the demon would let the witch know with more complete details.

The sun waned, and Stiles shook out of his reading focus when the smell of cooking meat drifted up to him. He smiled, picking up his phone and letting his dad know where he was again. Shortly after, he got a response.

‘You staying the night again?’

Stiles hesitated before giving an affirmative. He felt tingles up his neck when his father responded.

‘Good. See you tomorrow.’

_Huh. Well, let’s go see what dinner will be. You’re good at cooking, right? Maybe nonna needs help?_

“Oookay.” With that, he put the book down on a corner table and left the room.

He didn’t notice the book shifting subtly before opening its pages, and he couldn’t have seen Cairn in the little mirror, reading over the pages with a hunger in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Derek was covered in grease and oil and rust and too many other things by the time he drove home. When he got out of the car, little Cynthia ran up to greet him, beaming like she always did. He grinned down at her and squatted down to her level.

“Hey, pup. What’s up?” he asked, ruffling her hair. She scrunched her face up and shook her head.

“Nothing.” She giggled, and she fidgeted with something behind her back. The wolf grinned wider, reaching around and tickling her as he lifted, placing her on the hood of the car as she screeched with laughter. She held her hands out with a little feather in her hand. “I found this!”

“Oh really? Wow, that’s such a pretty-,” he started, but his nose caught a scent, and he observed the feather carefully. There were little flecks of red dried onto the feather, with a strange purple dust settled near the tip. “Cynthia, where did you find this?”

“Near the house?” she said quietly. “Did I do something bad?”

“No, hon, we just need to get you inside right now.” He said urgently, picking her up. Something was very, very wrong, and his instincts were telling him they were being watched.

He turned to the door, only to spot something moving a few yards from him, making no sound other than a light grating, barely moving as it gave the illusion of breathing.

It looked, at first, to be nothing but a moss covered rock. Upon further inspection, though, it had a shape and contour to it that mimicked a human, or an animal. It had short legs, with arms that descended to the ground and rested. It had a light glimmer underneath the moss, like it was coated in mother of pearl or silver. When Derek took a step to the side, it lifted a hand slightly off the ground, as if it were going to take a casual step towards them. Its head was shaped in reference to a human head, though it lacked any distinguishable features. The eyes were recesses that shone a dark viridian, and they seemed almost innocent, pondering.

Another step to the side, and the creature was hunching as if to attack

Derek took off in a dead sprint with his little cousin in arm, dashing towards the door. He could feel the thing launch off the ground and barely miss him as it crashed into the van, utterly destroying it and rolling the mess towards the trees. Derek crashed through the door, roaring as he deposited the girl into the couch.

“Derek!” His mother shouted, rounding the corner. He heaved a breath and shook his head.

“It’s here. Now.” A strange screeching sound, like steel grating against concrete, rang outside. “And it sounds pissed.”

“Stiles!” She shouted, and every wolf pounded through the house, entering the living room with glowing eyes and claws out. Stiles came through the kitchen doorway, eyes wide and pointing at Derek’s shoulder.

“Derek, you’re bleeding. A lot.” He said with alarm, coming closer to look at it. Derek looked down, frowning at the cut as it gave off wisps of smoke. Stiles cursed as a little black mark appeared, and he shoved Derek into a chair. “That’s not an ordinary golem.”

He took a stick that smelled strongly of incense out of his pocket, applying it to the cut, and Derek roared into a partial shift as it burned him. After Stiles lifted the stick, the cut started to close, and it pushed out little dribbles of black blood.

“What did it look like? What does it have on it?” he asked, snapping his fingers in front of Derek’s eyes. “Hey, buddy, need to know if it had things growing on it.”

“Moss.” Derek bit out, and Stiles cursed. “Why?”

“Was some of the moss purple?” he asked, probing the healing cut.

“Some small, darker clumps, yes.”

“He might have added aconite pulp to the thing. It knew where to find you guys, and it just attacked.” He looked to a mirror, his heart rate accelerating. “What do I do?”

A moment of silence as nobody knew what to say, and then Stiles nodded as he got up from Derek’s side and ran up the stairs. Nonna perked a brow after him, frowning slightly as she tapped her claws against the wall.

“Who was he talking to?”

 

* * *

 

“Cairn, that thing was fast if it could that close. It was sneaky, and none of the wolves heard it. Those characteristics don’t scream golem.” He said as he rummaged through his backpack. They were back in Derek’s room, and the Spirit was leaning over his shoulder in the reflection, nodding.

“ _That was no normal golem. I watched out the window when I felt something… off. It looks like a construct. The face was rudimentary, but the style it was built in bothered me. Its legs were too short, and its arms were far too long. It was built to travel on four legs. It attacks very quickly, far too quickly for its weight. It was shorter than you, maybe my height, and it has silver pounded into it in several places. Moss covers much of its body, but… I don’t know, the moss bothers me the most. That’s an element I haven’t seen much before._ ” Cairn frowned as he guided Stiles hand to find a lump of silver in his pack. “ _I know you haven’t even started the tablet to deactivate it, so we have to improvise._ ”

“How?” He countered, and Cairn winced.

“ _Um… throw jewelry at it and call it pretty? I don’t know, you know just as much as I do about these things now. We need a full tablet to stop it completely, but maybe we can set a glyph or ward to repel it? May some silver?_ ”

“I think I can do that.” He chewed his lip as a crashing sound came from downstairs, startling them both. Cairn shooed him, and he dashed down the stairs, silver in hand.

The creature was at the foot of the stairs, shrugging off the debris it had created. It had crashed through the front door directly, which seemed almost considerate. It swiveled its head towards the witch, watching with curious lips and bright eyes. The wolves kept a healthy distance, and Stiles took his oil stick out, drawing the ward on the flattest side he could find on the silver.

“Hello.” He called, and the creature tilted its head. “Welcome. Were you looking for something?”

The creature looked down, as if thinking hard, before looking up and giving . Stiles arched his brow in surprise and nodded. “And what would that be?”

Everyone in the room took a step back as it started shaking, and a hollow sound came from it.

“Elements.” It said, sounding empty and echoing, as if it were in the middle of a metal dome. The voice had a genderless feel to it, and the sound sent tingles down the witch’s spine. Stiles held out his hand, with the silver lump in it giving off a glimmer.

“Like this?” He asked, and the golem nodded, its shoulders huffing ever so slightly.

Stiles tossed the silver to it, watching as the creature snatched it out of the air far too quickly. Cairn was chanting in his head, and Stiles murmured along with the words. As the creature held the ore, it seemed to calm down, backing away and turning towards the door. The ward pulsed in it hands, and Stiles started sweating at the energy it took from him to get the creature to obey the rune. Cairn helped, but even the demon seemed strained.

The creature walked out calmly, until it hit the earthy ground outside. When its feet hit the dirt, it launched itself away, barely a blur to Stiles’ all too human eyes.

Peter was the first to react, running after it with a snarl on his lips. Talia ran after him, yelling for him to stop. Lilian was looking over her daughter, who had broken out crying after the creature left. Stiles ran down to Derek, who had something in his palm.

“What is that?” he looked down, finding a little feather. He leaned down, noticing the rusty splatters over it, the purple dust coating the tips. “Is that a marker?”

“I think so. It has everything you described at the crime scenes.” He handed it gingerly to the witch. “You might need that for tracking.”

“I can try scrying.” He nodded. Derek looked paler than normal, and he looked around. “What do we do now?”

“Peter and Mother have gone after the creature, to see if they can find where it goes after its thefts.” Derek looked down and around to the floor. “We’ll need to clean this up. You need to store that somewhere safe until you can work with it. Cora!”

She stepped in from around the corner, eyes glowing dimly.

“Yeah?”

“Have Damien help you clean this up. I’m going to clean myself up and have Stiles set up a tracking spell.” He said, his voice upset. He tugged at Stiles arm, his nostrils flared slightly as they marched up the broken stairs.

Stiles was confused as Derek pushed him through the bedroom door, closing it quickly behind him before dragging him to the closet. Stiles didn’t particularly like being manhandled, and the wolf was using a little more strength than strictly necessary when he gripped. When the closet door opened, there was a small safe on the floor. Derek leaned down, deftly unlocked it, and pointed down into it as he grabbed a shirt from the rack.

“Lock it up in there.” He said, voice a little strained as he turned around and ripped off, literally _ripped_ off his shirt. Stiles put it in an empty space, closing it with an audible click and twirling the lock before turning his attention back to the wolf. Derek was messing with the clean shirt, his face contorting with frustration the longer it took him to find the appropriate places to put his arms through. Stiles shook his head and reached forward, taking it from his hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tossing the shirt aside and taking the wolf’s shaking hands.

“Nothing.” The wolf tried to pull back, but Stiles gave him a sardonic smile and gripped the hands tighter.

“Yeah, because of course that makes sense. You’re totally fine. Not a damn things wrong with this sourwolf.” He dropped the look and gazed back into Derek’s hazel eyes. “Really. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Derek was silent for a moment, struggling without words. Stiles was caught off guard as he was suddenly pushed against the wall, Derek leaning down to inhale into his neck and press his body close. His partially naked body.

Cairn laughed openly as Stiles squeaked.

“You frustrating, reckless, moronic _witch_.” He growled into Stiles’ neck, the words vibrating through his chest and into Stiles rhythm. The words, though harsh, had such a twist to them that Stiles could feel his pulse quickening, and blood rushed throughout his body.

That was a little embarrassing.

“You shouldn’t have just stood up to that damn thing, you shouldn’t have even been down there, and you just went up and fucking _talked_ to it, like it was a guest or old friend, and… and… FUCK, Stiles!” Derek roared, pinning the boy against the wall and rubbing his scruff into his neck, writhing against him and gripping onto Stiles thigh and side with acute force.

Cairn continued howling in laughter as Stiles blushed all over and whimpered as the hands roamed.

 _That’s so cute._ The spirit keened, and Stiles could barely work up the annoyance as he was picked up and thrown onto the bed.

Wait. The bed.

He had about a second to scoot back and pull down his shirt before Derek was on him again, eyes blue and glowing as he tackled the boy into the bedspread, growling and-

 _Is he_ snuggling _you?_ Cairn cried hysterically. Stiles briefly glanced over to the mirror to see the demon’s form hunched over in laughter, wiping his eyes as he continued to stare.

The wolf appeared to be doing exactly that, albeit in a very aggressive manner that left Stiles flushed and excited and way to many other things. The wolf was scenting the shit out of him, and though he was currently oblivious to Stiles’ arousal, that wouldn’t keep up for long.

“Derek-,” he tried, but the wolf looked up and snarled at him with fangs before returning to his aggressive cuddle routine. Stiles gave a muffled scream of frustration as Derek’s weight settled over him even closer, and it would have been fine if he had prepared for this, or even been an active teen boy in the past few weeks. You know, bonding between boy and his computer.

He hadn’t, though, and that was about to be a very big problem if Derek didn’t stop rubbing _right there, big problem_.

“OKAY, bad wolf!” Stiles shouted, more shrieked as he pushed against Derek as hard as he could. When he got a growl and bright blue eyes back, he grabbed the man’s shoulders and shook them. “If you don’t stop that right fucking now, I’m gonna bust more than a few moves, and it is far too damn early for that shit between us, so you stop, I’ll calm down, take a really cold shower, and probably jerk off for hours on end by myself when I go home tonight and sob into a pillow!”

Some part of that got through Derek’s wolf rage, and his eyes dimmed almost immediately. His nostrils flared and his eyes darted down, where his body was basically draped over Stiles’ long legs. The pronounced bulge in the witch’s jeans made the man gulp, and he jumped off of him like he was covered in wolfsbane.

“Thank goddess…” Stiles blew out, rolling over and curling up.

“I am… so sorry?” Derek said, but he sounded unsure.

“What? What’s with the pondering apology?” Stiles flipped over, glaring at the man.

“You just smell really confused, but really excited.” Derek explained, gesturing. “I… well, I didn’t mean to do that, I was just… uh, well.” Derek gave a look that Stiles would have called constipated, but then the wolf blushed beet red and coughed a little, rushing out the door.

 _You two and you’re new melodrama romance would work well on a tv show. They should call it Teen Wolf._ Cairn commented with a giggle. Stiles flipped him the bird before getting up and getting ready to follow him.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t move his legs without some slight discomfort.

“Shower. A nice, cold, freezing shower.” He muttered, shaking out of his clothes while muttering little curses at stupid wolves and their incredibly maintained physiques, and their stupid perfect facial hair.

 _You know, he probably didn’t mean to come off like that. In fact, I’m pretty sure that was a stress reaction from the fact he cares about you too much to let anything bad happen to you. You did leave yourself open to attack._ Cairn remarked, and Stiles glared into the mirror as it came into view. He started the shower, crossing his arms and challenging the reflected demon.

“No excuse for nonconsensual touching.” He shot, pointing a finger at the laugh that erupted.

“ _Consent could have been implied the moment you decided to comfort him. But that’s arbitrary, he wasn’t being sexual. He was scenting you so he’d feel assured he could protect you. I doubt sex was even on the mind when his instincts kicked in._ ” Cairn reasoned. Stiles shook his head and bit his lip in frustration as he jumped in. The cold water made him squeak in surprise before his settled into washing up. “ _Also, no matter how much soap you use, you’ll still smell like you were dipped in a vat of liquid Derek. He just got off work, and I guarantee you he was working pretty hard to be covered in that much grease._ ”

“You need a new definition of what consent is and where it comes from. The moment I tried to get away from him, he should have been able to stop.” Stiles shot back, scrubbing as hard as he dared. He knew the wolves bought lightly scented soaps, but eh. He’d just scrub a few layers off his skin, why not?

 _Consent has been a concept since the beginning of common intelligence and respect. Wolves, however, have differences in culture, if you want to think of it that way. He was not asking permission, which, by a human standard, he should have done, but by a wolf standard might have been acceptable. Hell, if you don’t like it in the future, nip at his neck. That’ll get his attention._ Cairn reasoned. Stiles just shook his head and sighed as he shivered under the water, turning it back to lukewarm. _It may not be ideal, but Derek wouldn’t just turn all predator on you. Human intellect and wolf instinct mix, sometimes with undesirable results._

“I just…. Ugh. This is not going where I had planned.”

 _It rarely ever does, though, does it? Now, hurry up. Food is done, and they’ll be wondering where you are._ Cairn allowed gently. Stiles turned off the water and jumped out, drying off quickly and messing with his longer hair. It was a couple of inches up now, and he smiled at how awkward he had been about letting it grow out. Cairn came up from behind him and ran his hand through it once, leaving a warm feeling behind. _I do enjoy your hair like this. It looks good._

“Thanks. He… he used to like petting it.” Stiles murmured somberly. Cairn gave him a hug and smiled.

“ _Of course he does. You should let him do it again, yeah?_ ” Cairn encouraged, ignoring the past tense. Stiles smiled.

“Yeah, maybe. Let’s go eat.”

 

Dinner was stiff and on edge.

Talia and Peter had not come back, and nonna had explained to Stiles that Talia left an order to await her command before following after. They had to stay there until an order came.

The lasagna, though wonderful, didn’t sit right with the witch as he ate slowly, the radio turned on to a local station to see if anything unusual was reported. The kids were playing with Cora in the corner, with Laura watching over them with lightly amused eyes. Damien and Ross were standing like marble statues against the walls, waiting for anything to change.

Derek wouldn’t look at Stiles, and kept his head low in what Stiles interpreted as shame. For the first minute, Stiles felt Derek was taking the right approach. After the first five minutes, Stiles wanted him to stop and attempt to talk.

 _He’s being extremely cautious around you, which I guess is good that he’s being hyperaware of your space now, yes?_ Cairn commented. Stiles wanted to retort, but simply thinned his lips.

The wolves perked up a few minutes later, looking immediately to the front. The family rose as Talia came back, Peter hanging off her shoulders. Lilian gasped and rushed forward as Peter groaned and waved everyone off. He was covered in scratches that were healing at an extremely slow rate for a wolf, and he looked exhausted.

“I could have had the damn thing if you didn’t distract me.” He snarled at Talia. The woman gave him a dark look and shook her head, her blouse and pants ripped and dirty.

“The thing as absolutely covered in wolfsbane. If it had decided to grip you, you would have been dead within minutes.” She shook her head and addressed everyone else. “I managed to knock a chunk of… well, I broke a piece of it off.”

She took a hunk of ore from her pocket, covered in little veins of silver. There was a slight amount of purple moss on its exterior, and the wolves flinched as Talia set it down, brushing the poison off her hands.

“Stiles, We need you to scry its location.” She looked to Lilian. “I managed to heal him with some of the moss on the creature, but he needs rest. Damien, help Lilian get your uncle up to his room. Derek, help Stiles with whatever he needs. Deaton will be on his way over to see to Peter, and I need to contact our contractor to get that entryway fixed immediately.”

Stiles took the ore chunk and felt it around. It should be simple enough.

 _Not… quite._ Cairn groaned. _Look on the other side._

When Stiles flipped it over, he cursed and got Talia’s attention again.

“Talia, I don’t think I’ll be able to find the golem.” He showed her the flipside. “He already beat us to the punch. It has baldur ore in it, too. It’s magick resistant, and I could barely get it to leave when it was right in front of me.”

She cursed and observed the little peridot specks inside the ore, working her jaw. “Can you try anyways? Just to see?”

“Yes, but don’t expect miraculous results. I’ll be in the library, I guess.” He noted, nodding to Derek. “Can you grab the feather from your room? We may have more success with that.”

Derek nodded silently, leaving a little disappointment in Stiles’ chest.

When they met up back in the library, Stiles laid out a map of the beacon hills area, with a pendulum of quartz in one hand and the ore trapped in the cord. He started swinging the pendulum while thinking of the creature, focusing with Cairn’s help as they tried to find it on the map. After fifteen minutes, Stiles let out a pent up breath and set it down, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“I won’t find it with the ore. Give me the feather, maybe I can track the controller.” Stiles reached out, and Derek placed the feather in it quickly. “Thank you.”

Stiles went about scrying again, and was silent as the minutes ticked by. Cairn applied his power to the spell as well, but the same situation with the golem happened. The pendulum would just keep going, never even pausing on an area.

“Maybe… maybe I need to try something else.” Stiles muttered after his arm ached and nothing came from it. “Maybe a mirror?”

 _Mirrors were used as scrying tools in old days. We’d have a water pool or shiny stone and smooth it out til we could call our desires from it. I had an obsidian mirror I adored._ Cairn shared, and he seemed to pull Stiles to the corner where the small vanity mirror rested. _Use this. It has seen the hands of a witch before_.

Stiles picked it up, taking it back to the main table. He set it before him, Drawing a well of runes around the edges, placing directional sigils on the table. He placed his hands on either side of the mirror, looking down into it and letting loose a deep breath.

“Let me see.” He whispered, fogging up the glass on the surface. As it reached the corners of the mirror, the surface furled into an inky blank, looking like a void within space before him. Cairn held onto the essence of the feather, guiding its power into the void and helping Stiles find the snag of power he was looking for.

The surface furled once more into the scene of a warehouse in the west bottoms.

“I found a place.” Stiles said quietly, looking through the area to see if he could find an address. Before he could, however, Cairn pulled at him in alarm.

There was a figure in shadows at the end of the warehouse. Stiles didn’t know why, or even how he knew, but he could feel the eyes in the dark piercing into him. He couldn’t look away as the figure stalked forward, intent clear as he slid a small blade out of his sleeve, glinting in the dark the closer he got.

 _Stiles! Move!_ Cairn commanded, physically tugging at him to move. He wasn’t strong enough to pull the witch away from his entranced state. The demon picked up a book and threw it at Derek. _Help him, you stupid mutt!_

Derek just looked at the book in alarm, getting up and stepping away from the witch.

 _NO!_ Cairn dove back towards the image, trying to move the mirror away. He couldn’t touch it, even as he touched the table, and Stiles’ hands. The figure was getting closer, and whispers could be heard from the scene.

“You think you can beat me, witch?” a hoarse whisper came through the mirror. Derek definitely heard that, dashing to Stiles’ side just as the blade slid through the mirror and into his side. Derek ripped the boy off the table as he spasmed, the blade sizzling in his flesh.

The arm was still propped out of the mirror, and Cairn watched in horror as it took the oil stick and started to draw hexes on the table. Derek was too busy attending to Stiles, getting the burning blade out. Cairn went forward, staring into the mirror and lightly trying to touch the arm. He couldn’t grasp it at all… but maybe he could touch the knife.

He hurried over to where Derek had thrown it and, with as much will as he could muster, picked it up. The knife’s magick did burn slightly, and it made the object hard to wield. He let it float along as he dragged it through the air, having it hover just above the arm.

 _I wonder how well this will flay you?_ He grinned, driving it down sharply into the arm of the attacker. A scream rang through the air, and Cairn cringed as the double timbre came through the mirror. The blood that splattered over the table started to smoke, and Cairn stepped aside to let Derek put it out. The wolf turned the mirror over.

The demon went over to Stiles, pouring his energy into the witch to try and help the wound heal. Whatever enchantment the attacker had used on the blade left the wound cauterized, very little blood to be done. That had to be how he was giving so many blood sacrifices at the scenes Stiles’ father observed.

Stiles looked up, eyes wide as Cairn attended to him. Soon after, Derek held him close, yelling for the others. Wolves pounded up the stairs, and filed into the room with claws ready. Stiles, however, wouldn’t look away from the demon. Cairn quirked a brow and patted his arm.

_What’s wrong?_

“I can see you.” He choked.

Cairn’s eyes widened as he stepped back, letting the wolves carry him to Derek’s room.

Lilian stayed behind, watching him acutely, a small frown playing across her features.

That changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golems in several cultures were not just said to be made by men, but also by spirits to embody themselves or an aspect of their divinity/infernal natures. Take from this what you will.  
> By now, many of you may have noticed that Cairn is identified as a demon. Several classes exist, and though he may not be the most fond of the moniker, he does fit it for several reasons.  
> The conversation Cairn has about consent is important, mainly because consent is a big topic in fan fiction {and tumblr, especially in roleplay}. I am active in the LGBTQIA community, and I also have led workshops on the importance of consent today. Stiles kind of takes a stance on what it means to him... and Cairn illustrates my point that Derek will have instinct thresholds that, if Stiles were to be truly distressed and did not want the interaction, he would be able to control himself. This chapter was about scenting and making sure he was safe.


	7. A Series of Angsty Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you and Scott can get away with kidnapping him and only face a restraining order, you could be lucky enough to avoid too much trouble here… right?” Cairn pondered off to the side. Stiles stared at the space he was occupying, shaking his head slightly before focusing back on the men. “Oh… well, it’s a pity that you can’t do anything, then.”
> 
> But… he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of violence. Not too much, just a bit.  
> Thanks to LithaLeap for dealing with my craptastic schedule. They're amazing, aren't they?

Cairn was scared.

Something hurt his witch.

Stiles was sleeping soundly in Derek’s arms, the wolf breathing deeply behind the boy. Stiles had recovered from the wound relatively fast, thanks to the amount of energy he spent on the witch. Stiles passed into an easy sleep with little prodding, drained and confused. Derek, admittedly, had been a wonderful comfort. Cairn suspected that he drained as much pain as he possibly could from the boy, which he was grateful for. He decided to check on everyone else, just out of an errant thought.

He wasn’t the only one scared.

None of the others had seen him, though they discussed the witch’s words after he had slept, how it didn’t make sense for him to be talking to nothing. Cairn had watched the discussion with mounting concern, watching Lilian as she watched him. She spoke not a word about the demon protecting, or haunting, Stiles’ life, though. His secret appeared safe for now.

They discussed the breach in security, through the old mirror from the library. The mirror was locked away safely now, which almost made Cairn laugh. It couldn’t be accessed from the other side; it was just a mirror. The magick cast upon it allowed the void to turn into a portal. He wouldn’t contradict their instincts, though. After being reassured he wouldn’t be missing anything from the wolves, followed after Lilian as she excused herself and ascended the stairs.

“ _I need to speak with you._ ” He tried, standing in front of her in the hallway and watching as her eyes widened. After he finished, though, she gave him a confused look. He watched her with wary eyes as he signaled to his mouth, and then her ears. She got the message and shook her head.

So, the seer could see him, but she couldn’t do much more than that.

“ _Good. I didn’t need you eavesdropping._ ” He crooked his finger and headed to the library. After a few passing seconds, she followed with hesitant steps.

He started looking at the spines of books he found could be important, or ones he read while the house slept. He pulled the most relevant ones out ever so slightly, enough that she knew he had done it, and watched as she collected the books. He watched as she skimmed through them, catching the gist of what he needed.

“You’re worried.” She said cautiously. He nodded and pointed out the book on the far end of the spread she had made. The cover opened, which shocked the woman as the pages unfurled before her. He leaned forward to point out the section he wanted her to read.

_Spirits becoming corporeal._

“Stiles can see you himself now, can’t he? You’ve become strong enough to interact with the world around you.” She said in an accusing tone. Cairn nodded and held up a finger, then pointed to another book.

_The Demon Hierarchy; The Traditions of the World_.

He then pointed to the knife, and looked to her meaningfully.

“You believe a demon came through the mirror?” she asked. Cairn gave a pained look and a halfway gesture with his hand before nodding again. “A demon is controlling the golem?”

To that, he grimaced, gave the halfway gesture, then shook his head. “ _Probably not._ ”

“Beautiful. I assume you don’t want him to know, if you’re approaching me about this?” she asked sharply. Cairn attempted to look sheepish before nodding. Her eyes narrowed. “Keeping secrets from him may not help. It could do more harm than you realize.”

Cairn’s lips thinned, and he shook his head slower, eyes unblinking as he gave her a meaningful, if dark, look. She sighed and held up her hands, gesturing at the tomes around her.

“Fine, but don’t blame anyone but yourself if things go wrong.” She said sternly, skimming thoughtfully through the book on demons. She flicked through it, pausing with a little chortle as she turned the book towards him.

“ _One must put a cairn of stones over the grave of one lost to evil to prevent the rise of blood demons._ ” He read, and realized she was in the Gaelic section. He gave a rueful smirk before closing the book. “ _You’re funny_.”

She shook her head and went about putting the books away, humming under breath. Cairn watched for a time, pondering her existence amongst the wolves. She was basically a human with a little more awareness of the past and present. No actual magick power present. She seemed perfectly content here, in her library, even as she was stressed, and her husband was being stubborn and sick, and Stiles brought a new edge to her world.

He wondered if she would grow to hate the young witch.

“ _Sleep well, Lilian._ ” He murmured, waving to her as she turned around, a troubled look on her face.

He didn’t even bother with conventions as he passed through the walls, stopping inside the room and resting his thin frame against the mirror. He looked back down upon the witch and wolf, sighing with a touch of frustration. They were still close, Derek spooning Stiles maybe a little closer than earlier. They had started out the evening on the edges of the bed, facing each other, and just couldn’t be separated when they were unconscious.

He was tired of this denial of chemistry he knew they had, and knew they were aware of.

He decided it was time to get to work.

“ _You both are ridiculous._ ” He snorted, taking an oil stick out of his pocket. “ _I’m scared about what will happen next, and I need you two to bond. Preferably now rather than later. So, I’m really doing this for your own good. Truly, I mean it._ ”

He took the stick, breaking it in half and crumbling it in his palms. He came to the edge of the bed, murmuring words over the crumbs and looking down at the pair. His eyes were pitch black.

“ _Dancing pair, in reverie, deep in hearts, you two shall be. Break down the walls that you have built,_ ” he whispered sweetly, eyes shifting between completely black and light blue as the dust in his hands sparked with a cerulean gleam. “ _Destroy the aches and tragic guilt._ ”

He blew the dust over their faces, watching as it glided down and settled on them. It sparkled quickly before fading into nothing, leaving a soft glow behind. Cairn took the oil on his fingers and marked their foreheads as he finished the spell.

“ _Witch to wolf, and wolf to witch. From this, to more, I flip the switch._ ” He proclaimed, and Stiles twitched as he stirred in his sleep, turning to face into Derek’s arms. The demon watched as he snuggled into the wolf’s arms, and Derek basically purred into it, drawing him as close as he could.

Cairn smiled widely as he held the nonexistent urge to vomit.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stiles!” Scott practically yelled as he skidded in front of Stiles’ locker. The teen’s hair was an absolute mess, still long and close to a mop on his head. “You won’t believe what just happened! Its probably the best thing to ever happen to me!”

Stiles gave his best friend a classically sarcastic smile before he responded. “Let me guess, you saw the prettiest girl with most gorgeous brown eyes and beautiful dark brown hair.”

“I just met the prettiest- wait. How did you know?” Scott asked with wide eyes. It was almost comical.

“ _Please, that’s hilarious and you know it._ ”

Stiles wasn’t surprised, because he had seen the girl come up to the school just like Scott had described back in the other world. New girl on campus, backpack, lost look, biting her lip and missing her pen. That was Allison, alright. She looked good, even a little more assertive.

“Lucky guess. Did you let her borrow a pen?” He asked, and Scott nodded, before looking troubled and bugging his eyes out bigger.

“What, are you psychic?”

“No, just reading more young adult fiction. You should try it sometime, it’ll help you on your SAT.” Stiles recommended. Scott just nodded numbly before getting excited again with a goofy grin. His uneven jaw made it look like he was a bit of a cartoon character, but Stiles would swear it also made him almost classically handsome.

“Ok, but let me tell you about this girl! Her name is Allison, and she’s new…” Scott went on, and Stiles smiled and nodded with faux interest. He’d literally heard this before, and Cairn was laughing at his woes.

“ _I’m surprised this is taking the turn it is in this world. He didn’t have super hearing to be able to know she didn’t have a pen. Also, isn’t she a bit late?_ ” The demon remarked. Stiles still felt it odd to actually be able to see the spirit without a mirror, but it wasn’t actually all that weird when you considered he talked to most people without one. Scott was spewing something about how beautiful Allison was, so Stiles nodded to that, which spurned Scott on even more.

“Lydia is totally stealing her away, though, and dude! What if Lydia tells her I’m a loser? She’ll never talk to me again!” Scott panicked, and Stiles’ eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he felt a pulse from the teen, a little hitch in his breath. He gave a short cough, and his eyes squinted in a little discomfort. Stiles reached around rubbing his friend’s back.

“Hey, man, its ok. Allison is too nice of a person to actually pay attention to that kind of thing. I mean, she looks like that kind of girl. From what you’ve told me. So yeah, don’t worry about it.” He rambled, going through the physical breathing exercises. “Just be you. It’ll all work from there.”

That, sadly, was the best thing to happen all day.

Seeing Isaac come into school, clutching his ribs and quickly changing during gym practice was painful. The bruises on said ribs had to be even more so. Stiles had thought to confront the boy abut t, but he know that he didn’t have the right to. Not yet, at least.

Goddess, it had taken years to get to the familiarity he had had with the teen.

And then, there was Erica. Oh dear, sweet Erica.

In the middle of gym class, as she was running, she suddenly fell. Stiles thought that maybe it had been her shoes, one of them being untied or something. When he looked down and she still hadn’t made the attempt to get up, Stiles felt something emanate from her. She was clutching at her head and stomach as she spasmed, and Stiles ran to her before anyone else did. Cairn actually bristled as the witch helped her onto her side.

“ _She feels like spirit. That’s something I’ve always detested about the infirm._ He muttered. _Beautiful souls, plagued by something not only in their minds and bodies, but also in their hearts, their spirits. They have little control over the storm that wages inside them. It can lash out upon those who are not guarded well._ ” Cairn leaned down with him, ghosting his fingertips over her hair.

“Erica, Erica, listen to me.” Stiles said, placing his hand on her head and taking one of her hands in his. He reached out with the spark he held, and attempted to sooth the chaos erupting from the girl in waves. “Erica, you’re all right. You can relax. It’s okay, I know you can. Just hold on. You’ll be fine, and we’re right here with you. Shhhh. Relax.”

Erica’s energy lashed out at his, before quieting down and lashing out again. He fought it down, little by little, until a few minutes passed and she was breathing somewhat steadily again. Stiles smiled down as she looked up, running a hand over her hair and nodding. She gave him the smallest tear stained smile before getting up and heading to the locker room. Coach Finstock followed her, making sure she was alright and helping her to walk.

There was a snigger behind him.

When Stiles turned around, he felt a rage go through his body. There were people with their phones out, following the girl with their cameras. They had recorded the entire incident, and Jackson was in the lead. He was actually laughing, and got louder as he finished the video and clicked on it again.

“Looks like one loser has a crush on the other.” He exclaimed, and everyone around him laughed. Lydia frowned slightly, and she didn’t seem impressed. Danny just shot him a look that said ‘really’?

“ _He… goddess, he’s a douche. That girl just had a seizure, and he’s-, no, that’s not okay. That is in no way okay._ ” Cairn muttered in disgust. Stiles didn’t even reply as he stalked forward, his fist clenching as he focused on his target.

Jackson didn’t even see it coming, he was too busy guffawing like an idiot.

Stiles jabbed him in the gut quickly, followed by a heavy uppercut as he stepped into Jackson’s space. Jackson fell to the ground, looking up at the witch in surprise as Stiles straddled him, raring back and punching him across the jaw. He repeated this twice, refusing to stop even as hands grabbed at him. The area around him was practically winter as he hissed and pushed people back. He had enough force behind it to keep them off as he leaned down, clutching Jackson by the collar of his shirt.

“You know what? I’ve had enough of your shit. If you ever make fun of her again, I will fucking end you, Whittemore. I have despised you since the third grade. You have made my life miserable every chance you can get. I’m so fucking done with it, and I’ve got bigger problems than you to deal with these days. If I hear that you, or any of your buds, mess with her again?” Stiles leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “I’ll start making your life hell in the worst possible ways.”

“ _Stiles, get off him. You’ve made your point._ ” Cairn said desperately, actually trying to physically pull him off. “ _You need to leave him be._ ” Stiles struggled for a moment, a piece inside of him shifting uncomfortably as it fought the urge to continue bleeding the human in front of him. He’d managed to break his perfect nose, of course, but there wasn’t much other than that. Swollen jaw, black eye.

Stiles dropped the jock to the ground with shaking hands, stepping back and looking up. Everyone was kind of staring at him with shock in their eyes, and Lydia dashed forward to see if her man was alright. Danny looked at him with troubled eyes, stepping to help as well. Stiles looked around at everyone as they stared at him with wide eyes. He pointed down to the ground, lips taut and eyes filled with fire.

“He had it coming. You all have.” He said with shaky breath, his heart pumping fast against his chest. “You can’t see your petty, selfish actions for what they are. You can’t see the pain you cause, not really. It should be intolerable. It _is_ intolerable. Yet you laugh at her, and you video tape her at her most vulnerable. You post it online, mocking her for something she cannot control. You absolutely _wreck_ her, and you don’t give a single shit. Who’s going to tell you that you can’t do that? The teachers? Please.

“I’m sick of it. I don’t care. None of you have the right to make her life more hell than it already is.” He pointed at Danny and Lydia. “You both have had the power to stop this. You have the opinion that matters, and I can see that neither of you like the way she is treated. But, the thing is, you never do a damn thing. Nothing. Its bullshit, and you’re both capable of being better than that.

“The rest of you? Not so much.” He watched as Finstock came in, eyes wide as he stomped forward. “I want you all to remember what happened today. That was me being nice.”

“What is going on here? Who beat the shit out of Whittemore?” Finstock looked around, eyes confused. “Who could have beaten the shit out of Whittemore?”

“Ah.” Stiles scratched his head, wincing. “That would, uh, have been me, coach.”

Finstock stood there for a second before laughing. “Good one, Stilinski. Now who the hell actually beat up Jackson?”

Several people pointed at the witch, and Finstock, eyes wary and confused, whirled back around to look at the teen.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He said with wide eyes. He looked down at Stiles knuckles, covered in blood, and his eyes grew stern. “Stilinski, I think we need to take a trip to the office.”

Cairn groaned in his head as Stiles nodded, shooting a glare back down at Jackson as the coach yelled for someone to take the injured boy to the infirmary. Jackson looked at him with new consideration, and maybe just a bit of fear.

Stiles kinda felt it was worth it.

 ~*.*~

Okay, maybe not _that_ worth it

They called his father after he cleaned up a bit. They took pictures of his hands, and refused to let him see the nurse, since Jackson was there now. No ambulance was being called, so the nurse must have been able to set his nose well. One of the office aides gave him an icepack to put on his hands, since he had trouble moving them much.

He could actually see when his father arrived, as the police cruiser skidded into the parking lot, and his father stormed out, eyes frantic. Stiles winced, because that meant they only told his father that there had been a situation at school, and he needed to come. The principle actually looked somewhat smug as the sheriff burst into the office.

It took a little back and forth, but the principle informed him of what had happened in the gym. At first, his dad didn’t believe it. He looked back at Stiles and then back to the principle. He had that disbelieving look that could give way to a more resigned look any minute.

 “You’re telling me my son just open hauled on Whittemore’s kid, just for the hell of it?” He asked the principle. When he nodded, the sheriff looked back to his son and attempted to speak, before looking back to the man behind the desk. “Have you seen Stiles? The kid barely weighs in enough for lacrosse. Jackson has to be, what, at least fifty pounds heavier.”

“Regardless of how unlikely it seems, we have several witnesses. One even videotaped the fight.” The principal lifted the phone in question and played the video, the sheriff watching with narrow eyes as it captured his son attacking the boy. “There was blood all over your son’s hands. He admitted to it himself.”

“Why? Were you provoked?” he turned to his son, face in full on cop mode. Stiles sighed and winced.

“Not… exactly.” He gestured to the video as his dad’s eyes shifted darker. “He only played the last part.”

“Show me the entire video.” The sheriff demanded. The principle’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe that to be necessary. There was nothing in it to implicate-,” he said coldly, but the sheriff wasn’t having any of that.

“My son’s reasoning comes from what that video captured. It is involved. Play it.” He stared down the man with angry eyes, a vein starting to throb under the surface of his temple, and the principle backtracked the video and pressed play.

Sheriff Stilinski watched in suppressed rage as Erica was seizing, his lips turning thin as everyone started laughing. When she got up and left with the coach, he was grinding his teeth, and watched as Stiles finally got violent. He rewound it to a zoomed focus of Erica’s face.

“How often does shit like this happen?” He demanded. The principle’s eyes were narrow once again, and he had his nose in the air.

“That has nothing to do-,”

“It has everything to do with this situation. He was reacting in defense of that girl’s emotional state. How often does this shit happen?”

“Well, you see, we have a no tolerance policy here.” The principal started, with a heavy pause after the words were said. Stiles piped up.

“Uh, yeah, no. It happens every time she has a seizure. Finstock is one of the nice ones that gets her up and takes her where she needs to go.” He informs his father. “Your no tolerance policy? It’s a crock.”

“Stiles, shut up. You.” He pointed a finger at the principal. “What is Stiles looking at?”

“Mr. Whittemore has asked for young Stilinski’s expulsion and, under the circumstances, I’m considering it. He assaulted a student severely, possibly causing permanent damage to him.” He looked down at the file in front of him, shaking his head. “Broken nose, possible fracture in his jaw, possibility of a concussion… we cannot tolerate this level of violence in our school.”

“That didn’t stop you from letting Jackson torture us in the halls.” Stiles replied hotly. The principle raised a brow condescendingly. “And please, I hit him in the nose and the eye. He’ll have a shiner and a maybe, _maybe_ a crooked nose for a week. I’ve had way worse from him.”

“We received no such reports.”

“Because Harris has it out for me, and Jackson is the star lacrosse player.” Stiles exclaimed, and Cairn winced as he felt Stiles draw on magick. He felt threatened, cornered.

“This continues to sound more and more about contempt and jealousy.” The principle leaned forward. The sheriff leaned right back into his face.

“I want access to Stiles’ file. Now.”

Stiles sighed and tuned out as the men exchanged legal jargon and butted heads for several minutes, ignoring Stiles presence as he continued to think.

He hadn’t thought about it, which was stupid on his part. He in no way regretted beating the snot out of Jackson’s pretty face. It gave him more joy than he thought he could really hope for in school. The issue being that, now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape.

“ _If you and Scott can get away with kidnapping him and only face a restraining order, you could be lucky enough to avoid too much trouble here… right?_ ” Cairn pondered off to the side. Stiles stared at the space he was occupying, shaking his head slightly before focusing back on the men. “ _Oh… well, it’s a pity that you can’t do anything, then._ ”

But… he could.

He focused on the principle, clenching his fist and unclenching it, repeating the motion as he set into a rhythm. He thought about how he wanted mercy, basically. He didn’t expect to get away with nothing, but he did need the principle to lessen the punishment. Just a little.

“Just… loosen up.” He whispered under his breath. His scotch colored eyes glowed brightly in the sun, and his veins pulsed in time with the clenching of his fist. The principle started to wave the sheriff off, coughing a bit and frowning. After minutes passed by, and the argument was dwindling down, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” The principle called out, wiping his brow. To Stiles surprise, Lydia came in, her lips pressed thin, and her hair just ever so slightly out of place. She still looked as perfect as ever otherwise, and she almost looked like she had when they were friends in the other world. Slightly vulnerable, and infinitely kinder. The principal raised a brow and gestured for her to speak.

“I… Stiles was provoked.” She announced, lowering her hands. She looked pained, in a way, but determined. “Jackson won’t be pressing this. If you punish Stiles, you might as well punish him, too. Under the school code, Stiles could claim he was acting in defense of a student with special needs and circumstances, which Erica qualifies for. You have not had a TA assigned to her, so there was no one to insure she wasn’t the victim of emotional or physical abuse by her peers. If her parents found out about that, you’d be sued for thousands.”

The sheriff looked very confused, and the principal looked like he was about to be sick. Stiles clenched his fist once more, and the principle coughed and snorted, like he was trying to clear something from his system. When he looked back at Stiles, his eyes were a little dim.

“I… You’ll be facing suspension tomorrow. Three detentions with Finstock after that. Jackson will be handling detentions with Harris.” He said, pointing a finger at the boy. Stiles gave him a tight lipped nod. “We’ll… Jesus, we’ll handle this later. Get out of my office.”

“Okay.” He said, and the sheriff looked between everyone before huffing and nodding for Stiles to follow. They left the office, and Stiles nodded to Lydia with a sort of blank smile. She nodded back, though she didn’t look happy about it. As the Stilinskis went down the hallway, his dad pointed a finger at him, stopping at his locker to let him get his things.

“If you have a problem with someone in the future, you come to me. I don’t want to hear that you beat the crap out of half the lacrosse team, and have to deal with the fall out of that. You are lucky that she came in to save your ass, otherwise we would have been looking at your arrest.” He said angrily, and Stiles nodded with a wince. The sheriff’s tone changed after that, his eyes softer. “However… I’m proud of you for standing up for that girl, kiddo. And yourself. You really got him good, huh?”

“Yeah.” Stiles scratched his head and shrugged. “I was pretty much done with the bullshit. They’ll either leave me alone, or next time it’ll actually be self defense.”

“Well, don’t handle it alone.” He said sternly, sighing. “Whittemore’s father won’t like this one bit.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. Lydia said Jackson didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, though. Which is weird, cuz I was thinking he’d try to sue the shirt off my back, but hey, its good that didn’t happen, right?” he spouted, smiling as his dad glowered. “He probably didn’t want to admit that I was the one to mess up his face.”

“Be that as it may, don’t gloat. He has every right to take this to trial, if he wanted to, son. Don’t provoke him, don’t go near him, and keep your nose clean. Got it?”

“ _Your father’s patience is running dry, it seems. Offerings of meat will sooth him, yes?_ ” Cairn asked sarcastically. Stiles winced and gave a little grimace. He didn’t want to give his father the excuse to clog his arteries… but there was something he could get out of the offering.

“Got it. So… do you want steak tonight?” He asked with a bright smile. His father gave him a suspicious glance as they left the building.

“You never offer steak, except on special days. What do you want?”

“Nothing, nothing… just want to hear about what you’re working on, that’s all.” Stiles said nonchalantly as they got to his jeep. The man narrowed his eyes and considered him for a moment before nodding.

“Fine, but keep your mouth shut and don’t go spreading it. It’s confusing the hell out of us. Get home, do your homework. Oh, and you’re grounded.” He said as he turned towards his cruiser. Stiles gave an indignant noise and sputtered.

“What?”

“One week!” the man held up a finger as he got into his car, starting it and driving off as Cairn laughed and held onto Stiles, petting his arm. Stiles gave a desperate sigh.

“That’s going to make going over so much more difficult. Great. Now I have to time when he’s gonna be home and when I can sneak out.” He glared at the demon. “Stop that jovial behavior this instant. I have been jailed.”

“ _You have my pity, dear sir. Now, quit whining, we need to get home._ ”

The drive home was strange, since he could actually see Cairn in the seat next to him. He had a conversation and, instead of just looking in the mirror, he could glance over and see the demon with his legs on the dash, playing with the feathers in his dark hair.

“Okay, I’ve avoided asking for long enough. Why can I see you now? Cuz I’m pretty sure I’m not a seer, and I also didn’t do anything to make you visible, so this is a little weird.” He asked, and Cairn looked up with an open expression.

“ _I’m not sure. It could have been for a variety of reasons._ ”

“And why does your voice still come into my head, not from where you are?”

“ _Because I still don’t have a corporeal form here. I can interact with things on occasion, but my physical presence isn’t here. My lips move out of habit. My words would come across regardless._ ” He shrugged, and Stiles sighed.

“Ok… what does it mean?”

“ _You are asking the wrong Gaelic demon, friend._ ” He beamed. Stiles snorted and continued driving. When he got home, there was a Camaro on the street, and a certain wolf was leaning against it with a brooding expression. “ _Oh look, it’s your favorite puppy._ ”

“Shut up.” He muttered, attempting to ignore the jump in his heart when he saw the man. He parked and got out, stumbling slightly as he did. Derek started forward in alarm, sighing as Stiles managed to right himself. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Derek promptly ignored him as he came forward, sniffing and picking at Stiles hands, face, visible skin. When he found the knuckles partially swollen, he looked up with narrowed eyes. Stiles could see the light gray trickles through the wolf’s veins as he absorbed what little pain there was.

“Cora said you got into a fight. You seem fine, but you smell like blood. What happened?” he asked sharply, leaning into his neck and sniffling along it gently, scraping his beard against Stiles neck. The witch sputtered out a bit, his cheeks burning. He might have liked the attention if it was a bit less focused on why he was being punished, and more on his amazing studliness.

“Dude, we have nosy neighbors.” He breathed out in a sigh as Derek just gave a little growl and pulled away.

“Tell me.” Derek demanded, his brows contorted in their judgy yet worried look. Stiles gave him a suspicious glare. This was not the Derek he was used to. In fact, this was the Derek he had been used to before. The one that, though he had cared about, did not care for the attitude of. Oh, he wasn’t having any of that today.

“You still manage to judge so perfectly with those damn eyebrows. And where do they go when you shift? Just poof? Gone?” Derek gave him an unimpressed look as he guided Stiles to the door. He was kind enough not to literally push him over.

“Fine, I had an issue, and I resolved it. I also took him totally by surprise, so I'm not injured.” Stiles bit out as he unlocked the door. Derek kept ridiculously close to him as he made his way into the house. “Can I help you?”

“You… you smell like blood and anger. I don’t like it. You’re more upset about this than you are letting on. I don’t like that either.” Derek frowned, and Cairn winced as he moved to wedge himself between the two. Stiles was distracted by that, but watched in amazement as it actually worked. Derek took an unconscious step back.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a kind of shitty day, so I think I’m allowed to be a little pissed on my own time. By the way, I’m also grounded for a week, so my visits will be random and limited. And also? I’m so over short, clipped sentences meant to intimidate. Somebody else already played that card, and I was tired of it then, I’m not going to put up with it now.” He dropped his bag at the entryway and headed to the kitchen, grabbing things from the fridge and pantry for a sandwich. He didn’t like feeling intruded upon, and now that was what it felt like. He actually felt like he had a predator in his home, and he wanted it out. “I’m gonna relax and I kind of want to be alone right now, kay? Nothing happened, and I’m fine, so don’t worry about me. Go judge somebody else.”

Cairn winced a bit as Derek looked taken aback. He gave a stiff nod and struggled for a moment, Stiles ignoring him as he prepared his snack, before he left.

“ _You’re kind of an ass, and that could have gone better._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter watched curiously as Derek came in, cursing under his breath and practically reeking of anger, hurt… and rejection. The wolf’s eyes were glowing blue, and his claws were flexing in and out of phase. Derek snapped his head up and the glowing receded.

“Sorry, uncle. I just- no, never mind.” He turned to tromp up the stairs, but Peter snapped his fingers and tsked. Peter was in the mood to give his godly advice today, so he allowed Derek to sit next to him, even smelling like the angst of a hundred teens.

“Come in here, overly grown and sullen infant. I will share with you the wisdom of all my years.” He said with an open, partially mocking smile. Derek gave him a little look before flumping down into a chair.

“Right. You’re still in your mid thirties.” Peter waved that off with a scoff and smiled brighter.

“Regardless. What’s wrong?”

“I went to go see Stiles to see if he was alright. He got irritated, and then he basically told me to fuck off. He didn’t say it like that, but he smelled like it.” Derek groaned, leaning back with his face in his hands. “He hates me.”

“My, my. Well, first off, stop being a melodramatic teenager. You’re 26. Act like it. Second, he doesn’t hate you. Thirdly, was he fine?” Peter pointed out. Derek nodded, still disgruntled. “Did you crowd his space? Again?”

Derek blushed and winced. Peter sighed.

“The issue with this is actually simple.” Peter voiced. Derek looked up at him with a little hope. “You are coming off too strong. You need to, oh, how did Cora put it… slow your roll? Hold up? Take a chill pill? I don’t even know or care. Point being, you need to bide your time. You need to learn more about what he wants, what he likes, his desires, his dreams. You need to find out what he expects from his friends, his loved ones, his lovers. You need to treat him like your arch nemesis if you ever want to know his tender embrace. That is, treat him like your best friend.”

Lilian stuck her head out from the kitchen, a heavy frown and disapproving eyes glaring Peter down.

“Don’t you dare give that boy any more advice. You’ve broached onto strange territory.” She turned her attention to Derek. “Give him a gift and apologize if you appeared to do anything wrong. Even if you didn’t, a simple gesture like that can help immensely. If he has issues with the contact, do what your uncle did and ask first. It’s far more reasonable and acceptable at that point.”

“What should I get him? I have no idea what he’d like.”

“Don’t you, though? You mentioned he loved the library. Take him out to a bookstore and let him loose. Heaven knows he’d find something there to interest him.” Peter commented. He glanced over at his wife, winking at her before he gave Derek a knowing look. “Lilian had it, too.”

“And what, mister, did I have?” she asked with amusement. Peter looked up and gave her his most charming wink.

“Book lust, my dear.” He purred. She nodded and gave a small blush before she withdrew back into the kitchen. Derek seemed surprised and gave the man a questioning look.

“It’s actually a thing? I just thought it was unique to Stiles.”

“Dear heavens, no, Derek. You just don’t know the scent because you’re never around when it starts. It fades to contentment after a while.” He chuckled, waving the other wolf’s concerns. “If Stiles has that, go to a bookstore, followed shortly by a Starbucks, followed by some light activity before a quiet, romantic dinner. Aim for Italian, it’ll set the mood enough to really dig in.”

“You’re insane, Stiles would be much more impressed with a diner.” Lilian came back out of the kitchen, pointing a knife at her husband with a mock frustrated expression. “Everything else is wonderful, but don’t spend too much money on dinner. Stiles won’t appreciate it if you insist on taking him somewhere expensive, and he’ll see it as you exerting your money and power if you insist on paying that kind of bill. He strikes me as a proud young man. Save the expensive dinners for when you two are already in the thick of it.”

“Prideful youth; oh, how I miss the days. Lilian, dearest heart, remind me what I used to be like.” He playfully responded. Lilian sighed and left for the kitchen.

“You used to be far less sassy.” She called. Peter chuckled under his breath as Derek waited politely for them to be done. The older man looked back with a humorous smile.

“No, it’s just I had to be careful how sassy I was. Now, you need to get to work on a plan. I’d say try for subtle. How will you approach him with your request?” He questioned, crossing his leg and bridging his fingers. Derek blanched a bit.

“Um, I’ll… I’ll go up to him after school and ask him? He seems to like direct, even if it makes him flustered.”

Peter was already shaking his head. “Humans aren’t so kind about romantic attractions between two people of the same perceived gender. Stiles may be attracted to you, but I doubt he’s come out of the proverbial closet. If he’s around his young friend, Scott, he may react cruelly. Try again.”

“I’ll leave a letter at his house? He likes reading?” Derek sounded pained as he tried to think of something. Peter snorted.

“You may be terrible at it, but you are a romantic at heart. No, a letter won’t have the same impact. It might also come off too strong, especially to someone who over analyzes everything, like Stiles. Try again.” Peter gestured. Derek was silent for several minutes, Peter watching him patiently for an answer. Lilian came back in from cooking, leaning against the frame of the kitchen entry. Derek seemed content with an answer, and he looked up.

“When he comes over here next time, I’ll try to help him with research. Then, before he leaves, I’ll ask him out on a date. After I apologize if I had come off too strong earlier?” He added in. Peter struggled with the idea for a bit, but Lilian simply smiled.

“That’ll do, Der, that’ll do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _So, remind me. What all is going on right now? I’m a little lost._ ”

“Well, we have the golem and his creator still at large. We have that potential dark beastie that stabbed me with a magicked knife. We have Erica, Boyd, and Isaac to worry about, all for very different reasons. Scott isn’t a wolf, but he is about to get involved with a hunter’s daughter, which might be a pain in _my_ ass. I’m on the school’s equivalent to house arrest right now, and Jackson might retaliate later. Derek is butt hurt, and also really affectionate to the point of indecency. You’re attached to me, so I guess that’s kind of cool.” Stiles listed off, smirking at the end. Cairn smiled brightly and came to sit next to him on the bed.

“ _Aw, I feel so loved. You’ve touched something inside me._ ” Cairn said sweetly. Stiles frowned, giving Cairn an appraising look. Then, without warning, he shoved his hand into the space that Cairn’s chest occupied. The demon’s eyes went wide before his expression went flat. “ _That, sir, is my diaphragm. Pull it out this instant._ ”

Stiles cackled as he complied, laying back on the bed. His eyebrows quirked as Cairn scooched back and settled in next to him. He could feel the comfort in his mind as the demon sighed.

“ _That is a lot to worry about. I remember the days where I’d come visit a mortal and watch them. Granted, those were more like years, but time didn’t seem important then. I wasn’t really helping any of them._ ” He looked up with dark eyes. “ _What should we tackle?_ ”

“I don’t even know where to begin. If that thing is still at the warehouse, or if I scry again, who’s to say I’ll get anything but a blade in the stomach? Or heart? Nah, I’m not going to use a mirror again. Too risky. Maybe Talia can trace the next blood sacrifice?” Cairn was already shaking his head.

“ _Werewolves can trace very well, but I wouldn’t count on that. Talia will handle it how she sees fit, and it isn’t your sole responsibility. In fact, it isn’t your responsibility. If she needs help, you’ll probably be called upon. Til then, live. Enjoy live. Don’t kill Jackson or Harris._ ” Cairn’s eyes twinkled up at him, a soft smile on his lips. “ _Not everything is supposed to be doom and gloom here, ya know? You are allowed to be happy. Stop prioritizing so many complicated processes. Stop looking at magick. Do something that makes you happy._ ”

Stiles laid there, pondering the idea as Cairn hummed a little tune under his breath. He felt himself smiling slowly.

“You know what? I think will.”

Cairn watched as he went to his laptop and started typing away at it, pulling up several tabs. Cairn sighed.

“ _And what, pray tell, are you looking up?_ ”

“Not magick.” He responded cheekily, throwing a wink over his shoulder. Cairn shook his head and grumbled as he headed over. When he saw what was on the screen, his jaw hung open and his face contorted with mild disgust.

“ _You have the entire internet’s resources at your hands, with several helpful, amazing things to learn… and you look up heavy metal death cats?_ ” he said in awe. Stiles beamed back, turning the volume up on the video. Meows and yowling filled the room in a manner of minutes.

“It’s fun, mindless, and I’ll probably do it for another half hour before I go mad and kill something.”

“ _I guess I should be grateful I’m not alive._ ” The demon deadpanned. Stiles nodded.

“Yep. Now leave me alone or join me. We’ve got an entire playlist of cats to get through.” Stiles clicked the playlist on. Cairn shook his head at the witch, but hung over his shoulder nevertheless.

The demon would never admit it, but that little moment meant the world to him.

 ~*.*~

Later in the afternoon, Stiles checked the fridge for ingredients he could use for dinner, finding it dismally empty. He gave a little sigh as he started writing a list, then left a note for his dad that he wasn’t just going out for the hell of it.

At the grocery store, Cairn was unusually excited. He would pass his hands through the produce, smiling at the ones that were locally grown. When Stiles asked what he was up to, Cairn just gave him a carefree smile and rubbed his cheek over the cabbages.

“ _Can’t you feel it? These ones were grown with love. Even the herbs over there are are happy. The attendant must love plants._ ” Cairn pointed over at a smaller man, watering them and trimming the dead leaves off. “ _I love food. It’s one of the things I miss the most, you know, about being alive. I remember when Soja…._ ”

At that statement, the demon’s face fell noticeably. Stiles could feel a little pang in his heart at the cloud that consumed the demon after that, keeping him silent and blank. As he shopped, Cairn would point out the best cuts, or the best bargain. He and the demon debated on which broccoli head was better, when Cairn looked up over his shoulder in interest.

“ _Hey, isn’t that one of your other favorite puppies? Isaac?_ ” He asked, pointing to the entrance of the store. Stiles watched as the teen came in, wearing a hoodie and hugging at himself as he got a cart.

He had a little cut below his eye, just beginning to form a scab.

“If that was his father, I’m going to make history repeat itself.” Stiles said sharply, and Cairn shook his head.

“ _You can’t. Without Derek as his alpha, he will have nowhere to go, and foster care will be his only option. All you can do right now is be a friend. This would be the perfect opportunity…._ ” Cairn trailed off, giving him a little push in that direction. Stiles nodded to himself as he pretended to need something the direction the other teen went. He was heading back towards steaks, and Stiles winced. He’d probably have to buy another two, just to keep with appearances. His father didn’t know how lucky he was.

“Oh, hey Isaac!” Stiles greeted as he sidled next to the boy. He browsed the steaks with him, startling the teen.

“Oh… hey, Stiles?” Isaac said, gripping the cart a little harder. His knuckles had cuts on them, and his hoody was baggy enough to cover any other injuries. Cairn went up to him and starting to gently pet his arm. Isaac seemed to relax a bit under the unknowing touch.

“What are you up to?”

“Same as you, I guess.” He muttered back, picking out a package of meat and inspecting it. He shook a little as he did so, and Stiles smiled gently.

“Dominating the kitchen? Cool, cool.”

There was a moment of silence before a bit of Isaac’s snarkiness came out to play. Cairn looked smug when it did.

“So… are we just standing here, choosing what steaks to serve for dinner, or is there something else?”

“Huh? Like what?”

“I don’t know. You came up to me.” Isaac eyed him suspiciously.

“Nah. I came here for the steaks.” Stiles pointed at one and grabbed it. Isaac pointed at his cart and raised a brow.

“You already had some.”

“Oh did I? Silly me, I must have forgotten. Or maybe… maybe I just wanted more? The more meat, the better. Dad loves steak, and I really shouldn’t be giving him any, but I already agreed to do it tonight, so there really is no turning back. Besides, if I bribe him with meat, I might be able to get out of trouble, which is a plus, and it’s not like I won’t be able to reverse the damage to his arteries. I’ll just shove him full of kale for a week after. That’ll work, right?”

Another moment of silence occurred, where the boys stood stiffly and eyed each other. Isaac’s eyes were suspicious, and he was obviously having none of the bullshit. Stiles eyes were innocent and wide, as he smiled, holding the steak in his hands like an offering. After another moment of silence, Isaac moved.

“Well, I’m gonna go.” He looked down at Stiles selection with a heavy pause. “That steak is a little overpriced.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Stiles said sadly as he put it back. “We should hang out sometime.”

Isaac’s suspicious look became even more suspicious, and confused, as he turned back to the witch.

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re awesome?”

“No. Why?”

“Because you look like you’d kick ass at Halo?”

“No. Why?”

“Because I’ve got this massive boner for your curly locks and perfect jaw? How your eyes glitter in the shallow lighting of the school library? How your fingers dance and entice me like a moth to flame?” Stiles spouted off, gesturing a length and spreading his arms wide. Isaac looked at him blankly, one eye brow creeping up high.

“Really?”

“Maybe just a little one, then? No? Still not buying it? I thought so.” Stiles attempted, pinching his fingers together. Isaac folded his arms and adopted a look that said his patience was running out. Stiles sighed and threw up his hands. “Do I have to have a reason to want to hang with you?”

“Yes.” Isaac said, giving a bleak smile before paying attention to his cart. Stiles huffed a breath and let his arms drop to his side.

“Maybe I’m lonely, and you look lonely, too?” He offered up, and Isaac froze, looking up with guarded eyes. “Maybe we can fix that, you know, by being lonely in the same room. With pizza, even. I’d offer some Rocky Horror, but something tells me that I should stick with Halo.”

Isaac was silent for a moment, looking around and finding nobody else around. When he glanced back up at the witch, his eyes were vulnerable.

“I… I’d like that.” He said quietly. Stiles smile was a little blinding as he got out his phone.

Cairn smiled, too, as the two exchanged information, and Isaac left for the rest of his groceries. The boy had a lasting quirk to his lips that spoke volumes, and Stiles had the smuggest grin on his face.

“ _Oh, get off your high horse. You have a lot of work ahead of you, mister ‘Raging Boner’._ ” Cairn chastised, watching as the witch finished his shopping and checked out.

When they finally got home, his father had just pulled into the driveway, waving at him. His face looked grim, but not in a way that included his son.

“ _Must have had a bad day at work. Oh, how nice, he’s helping with groceries._ ” He commented as the sheriff leaned in the window and looked at the bags.

“I see you made good on that promise of steak… and the healthy crap you’re going to be putting into me for the week after.” The man sighed and gave a small, crinkly smile before reaching down and taking a few bags of groceries. Stiles made noises of protest before giving a judging look.

“Don’t think I missed that you took the steaks, dad. I see you.” He got the rest out, the demon trailing him and giggling. When Stiles got into the kitchen, he noticed a box labeled with warning tape. Sheriff’s office only.

“Working from home tonight?” he asked lightly, putting the produce he didn’t need away. The man blew out a breath and nodded, patting the box.

“Have to. The case has been going crazy. Break ins have gotten messier.” Stiles waited for the man to elaborate, setting aside the ingredients he needed for dinner. When the man didn’t continue, Stiles waved him on.

“And? Details for steak. This was promised.” He reminded. The Sheriff snorted and sat down, opening the box and spreading some documents on the table.

“The break ins are getting worse. We thought it was aimed specifically at influential areas, people with money, high ranking members of society. At first, it was. Now, we’re thinking that the perp is after anything he can get his hands on. He doesn’t care who it’s from.” He pulled out more papers from the box, stacking them on a dining room chair. “The break ins always happen when the residents have left the home, and, lately, there has been more blood found at the scenes. None from any of the residents, but… it is human.”

“Interesting.” Stiles bit his lower lip and starting cooking. As he washed and chopped vegetables, his father would read out facts of the case.

“The only connection I can see is that, somehow, the thief knew these families had gold, silver, raw gemstones. He’s even taken semi-precious ones from the kids, if they have any. Things like that aren’t even documented, you can just go down to the old pan creek at the farmstead to grab em. He hasn’t bothered hitting anything big, or even touched the smaller businesses. Heck, half the businesses that deal with those kinds of items have crappier security than the homes of the wealthy, and he blazed through them like smoke in the wind.”

“Maybe he wants to take it from people, specific people? Not just a general business?” Stiles offered. The sheriff nodded, but paused.

“You see, that makes sense, but then that changes his motive. Why does he want to steal it if it isn’t for the value of the item? He went through all that work to break into highly secure homes, steal from safes without breaking them, go through entire neighborhoods and steal as much as he could find. It would be easier to steal from stores.” He looked down. “He obviously has the skills. No footage, no noticeable hacking attempts at the security systems. No prints of any kind, no identifying factors except for the oxides and blood, and even those don’t have a match to a specific person.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make a comment on how unsafe everyone is? I can break into your homes, poor or wealthy, and take things that hold value to you?”

“But he’s taking things of material worth. Many of the victims were upset, but it was rarely anything precious. Some were heirlooms, and yes, some were overly attached to the value of the item. However, some of the middle class victims were just grateful that he didn’t break in while the kids were there, or that he didn’t take some of their other keepsakes.” He scratched his head and gave an appreciate sniff to the steaks. “We need that motive if we’re going to catch him.”

Cairn watched Stiles cook as the boy fought with his thoughts. On the one hand, Stiles was pretty sure that there were metaphysical reasons for the materials stolen. He couldn’t really bring that up to his dad without an explanation of his interest in it, though. He also couldn’t recommend creeping through warehouses because something stabbed him with a burning knife through a mirror. So he stayed silent as his father deliberated, and he cooked the steaks until they were just right, and then he and his father ate in silence as they both poured over the evidence.

Stiles was going over a list of everything stolen as he finished eating, when he noticed something very particular.

“Hey, dad? You said that he stole valuables, gems and jewelry, right?” His father nodded, and Stiles pointed down. “This house was hit, and he didn’t steal much. Only a silver pin.”

“Yes? Your point?”

“He’s stolen way more from everyone else. He’s taken every bit of gold and silver from them, actually. Did this house report all of their jewelry missing?” He looked down the list with his father, and they both looked up, faces tight in suspicion.

“No. They only mentioned one thing being stolen.”

“When did that happen?” He asked, and his father’s face contorted a bit in thought before it lost its edge.

“That was the very first one. We wrote that off as his test.” He looked over the profile. “Liz Melton. In her late fifties, lives alone, significantly wealthy, and has an up to date house with modern architecture and a prize garden.” He looked up with a quirked brow. “She told the officer on scene that only that pin had been stolen, and it was very important to her. She kept rambling about how the metalwork was priceless, and she ‘needed’ those amethysts.”

Cairn’s eyes shot up. “ _She’s a witch._ ”

“Did she say anything else?” Stiles asked, looking down at the report. He got a smack to the face with the papers his dad was holding, spluttering as his father continued reading.

“She would need it immediately upon recovery.” His father sighed. “I’ll continue working on this, but I can tell it’s going to be a long night. You, young man, need to do your homework and get to bed. You’re suspended tomorrow, so I expect you to be doing something useful.”

“Will do, dad.” He gave a mock salute before clearing the table, doing up the dishes and dashing up the stairs after he finished. Cairn beat him there, standing in the middle of the room and biting his lips. He was twirling the feathers in his hair again, the beads dangling down between his fingers.

“ _That woman is a witch, and I’m betting that wasn’t all that was stolen from her. We need to speak with her personally._ ” Cairn said urgently. Stiles took a seat at his desk, his computer lighting up under his fingers. “ _Did you see the address?_ ”

“It’s right down the street from where Allison lives. I think. I remember where she lived in the other world, so this should be pretty simple.” Stiles looked up the address on his computer as Cairn leaned over, and they watched as a google map image came up.

“ _Is it just me, or is there something off about that place?_ ”

“Really? You’re supernaturally judging it now, when you haven’t even seen it? Cairn gave him a frown before pointing at the backyard. Stiles zoomed in as much as he could, gaping a little at what they both saw.

“ _Don’t mock my senses. That is obviously a triquetra, and those are herbs common not only to cooking, but also the craft. As cliché as it may seem, those symbols have power, and she is no novice. Given her age, the amethyst may be to help with her awareness and some illnesses._ ” Cairn looked around the property, frowning. “ _Unfortunately, I can’t tell over the computer whether or not she’s protected the place._ ”

“We’ll take it slow.” Stiles wrote down the full address, just in case, and set it aside for tomorrow. “We’ll go while dad’s at work. She didn’t have a job listed, so she’ll either be there and we can talk, or she won’t and we’ll break in.”

“ _I would heavily discourage breaking in. Remember all the defenses you put around this house? She’ll be bound to have more. She’s on the defensive right now, and we might be a threat. She’ll know the moment we set foot on her property._ ” Cairn looked down in thought. “ _What if you brought her a piece offering, one witch to another? If she is missing her amethyst, why not bring her another, as good faith? A stone bought has some power, but a stone exchanged between friends is far better._ ”

“I’ll go by that little rock shop down off main before we head over there.” Stiles agreed, and he went back to typing out his plans, seeing what he could do and get away with. Cairn watched silently, occasionally lifting a hand to pet through Stiles hair and lay his head down on it.

Eventually, Stiles grew tired and swung himself around to bed. He dressed down quickly, then flumped into the covers and watched as Cairn regarded him kindly.

“I can’t help myself. They need me.” He muttered into the pillows. Cairn smiled softly as he pulled the covers over the witch, patting his head and encouraging sleep.

“ _I know, Stiles. I know._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was heavily debating which stone to make the significant piece out of. We'll have to deal with the cards that were dealt, i guess. ^_^  
> Thank you all for your patience. This one is one of the longer chapters, so i try to make up for the length of time if possible.   
> I love to hear from you guys! I haven't really addressed many personally, unless it was an inquiry on something in the story that didn't make sense, or an error. If it was asking if you would see something, i tended to try to mend it in the story itself.  
> If you have any direct questions, feel free to ask, and i will do my best to answer~!  
> Thank you all so much!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed.  
> If you have advice for me, i would enjoy hearing it to make my work and my system better.  
> If i have done something wrong, please make me aware. Good chance i may not be.  
> 


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